


Ice Blue Blond

by DoctorBilly



Series: Sea Glass and Tattoos [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Billyverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade and Billy Wiggins are back together. Can it really be that straightforward? Of course not. There is big trouble ahead for Lestrade. </p><p>Tags: violence; guns; forced sex change; traumatic deafness; consensual sex with complications; minor character death; astraphobia; tattoos; gratuitous 'homes and gardens'; gratuitous fashion references</p><p>This story continues directly from 'Lacuna'. The Lestrade/Billy relationship first started in 'You are my only'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "I'll meet you in Paris"

Billy is sitting at his roll top desk on the little mezzanine floor behind the houseboat's wheelhouse, taking advantage of the cooling breeze that the canal generates. The summer heat has kicked in early this year. He is working, marking student assignments.

Lestrade scooches up behind him and kisses the back of his neck.

"How do you fancy going away week after next? A romantic weekend in Paris? Jackie says we can stay at his place for a few days before we fly out. Get a bit of beach time in. What do you say?"

"I can't, Greg. We're right in the middle of marking and moderation. I can't take time off before mid-July. I've only been back at work a month in any case, it'd annoy people if I went straight off on holiday and didn't do my fair share."

Lestrade had been looking forward to going away with Billy for a summer holiday. He has been used to arranging holidays at short notice, his job makes it hard to plan very far ahead. He and Billy have only been back together for a month or so, both have heavy workloads, both have scars, mental and physical. Lestrade thinks they need time away together. He has done what he does most summers, taken the opportunity of a lull in court cases and arranged a break.

"Oh. I didn't think…"

"You've already arranged it, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Thought it would be a nice surprise…"

Lestrade mentally kicks himself. He should have asked Billy what he wanted to do about holidays. He realises Billy isn't that fond of surprises any more.

If Billy is a bit annoyed about not being consulted, he doesn't let it show.

"I really am sorry, Greg. I wish I could get the time off. I'd like to go back to St. Andrews, and I'd love to go to Paris, but exams in February and June are fixed points. It's all hands on deck then. Most people go away in July and August. Everything shuts down for the summer, when the students are gone. It's always best to go for the long vacations rather than term time."

"I wish I'd known, Billy. I would have waited. I've just always tried to have holidays in June, so people with school-age kids can take theirs in July and August. I didn't think. I should have checked with you before booking. It was arrogant of me to assume you'd just be able to fit in with my plans. I'll cancel."

"You need a break, Greg. You should still go…"

"A romantic weekend in Paris on my own? Don't think so, somehow."

Billy can hear how disappointed Lestrade is, feel it in the way his fingers are clutching his shoulders. He tries to think of a way to salvage at least some of the holiday.

"When exactly are the flights to and from Paris?"

"Thursday night, week after next. Come back the following Monday morning."

"I'm invigilating a resit exam on the Friday. I could get away in the afternoon, about three o'clock, get the train…you could go to Scotland, relax for a few days and I'll meet you in Paris on the Friday evening. How does that sound? We can still have three nights in Paris together."

Lestrade smiles, wraps his arms around Billy's shoulders and hugs him.

"That sounds great. You sure you'll be okay on your own here while I'm in Scotland?"

"I'm a grownup, Greg. It's only a week. I'll be all right."


	2. Parrots and hibiscus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy makes a new friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another very short chapter. I promise they will get back to normal length soon.

"You're here again. I wondered if you would be."

"Sorry, what?"

Billy looks up from the journal article he is reading. Bright, cobalt blue eyes twinkle at him from under a fringe of dark auburn hair.The voice is soft, an Irish twang.

The owner of the voice is perched on the corner of the desk Billy is using. He is Billy's age, or thereabouts, wearing long khaki skater shorts and a white vest under an open Hawaiian print shirt. Parrots and hibiscus flowers.

"You're here again."

"Er. Yes?"

"You're here every Tuesday and Friday afternoon…"

"Oh. Yeah. Those are the days I have to be on campus."

Billy often works in the library if he doesn't have students to see, or lectures to give. It is cool and quiet, and he is usually undisturbed.

"Okay. That line didn't work. Plan B. What are you reading?"

"Journal of Medical Ethics. It's an article about drug delivery systems…sorry? What line? Plan B?"

"Trying to chat you up. Not very successfully. Liam Callaghan."

The owner of the voice holds out his hand, laughing. Billy shakes it, blushing.

"Sorry. I'm not used to being chatted up…"

"Or I'm not using the right lines. Or maybe… shit. You _are_ gay?"

It is Liam's turn to blush.

"Yeah. I'm really just not used to being chatted up."

No one has _ever_ chatted Billy up. He has had very little experience of flirting. Has only had two relationships, both with men he already knew, so there was no need. This situation is new, and a bit scary. He doesn't know how to respond.

"So, are you studying medicine?"

"No. I'm just trying to find out about delivery systems."

"You are really rubbish at this, aren't you?"

Liam laughs, eyes crinkling, gap between slightly crooked front teeth showing.

"What's your name?"

"What? Oh. Sorry. Bill. Bill Wiggins."

"So, what are you studying, Bill?"

"I'm not a student…"

"So why are you reading a journal article in a university library?"

"It's cooler here than my office. I haven't got air conditioning."

"You are really hard work."

Liam laughs again.

"But sexy enough to make persistence worth it, I hope. What do you do, Bill Wiggins, if you're not a student?"

 _Sexy_? Billy belatedly realises that Liam really _is_ flirting with him. He flushes, looks anywhere but at Liam as he replies.

"I'm a researcher. In the medical sciences department. I teach a bit…"

"You're a post-doc?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look old enough. Have you got a boyfriend, Bill?"

"Yeah."

"That's a shame. I was going to suggest a night of passion, but I guess I'll settle for a beer. We can talk about medical science."

"I'd like that."

 

******************

<http://doctorbillyposts.tumblr.com>


	3. Yves Klein Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy is going to surprise Greg. Mycroft is helping him. Billy is a bit sulky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Yes. There will be a little bit of 'better homes and gardens' stuff in this story.

"That all seems to be in order"

Mycroft Holmes passes the contract over to Billy for his signature. He has been very helpful in guiding Billy through the technicalities of house buying. He is taking a deliberate interest in Billy's affairs, knowing Billy had felt abandoned by his friends in recent months, before he had rekindled his relationship with Lestrade.

Billy signs, taking great pleasure in writing out his name, with post-nominal letters, on the line below the signature, * _B Wiggins PhD MSc BSc_ *

The conveyancing solicitors exchange contracts and Billy relaxes into his new status as owner of a loft apartment in Bermondsey. It has cost a frightening amount of money, London house prices being what they are, but Billy has earned a lot of money from licensing his new painkiller. Mycroft has been very helpful with that, too.

"What will you do with the houseboat, Bill?"

"I'll probably move it up to Uxbridge. There are moorings on the Grand Union Canal. It'll be handy if I need to work really late, or if there are gigs out that way. And we sometimes have visiting academics that need putting up. Me and Greg could cruise in it for holidays, now the engine's all fixed up. I want to keep it anyway. Don't want to sell it. Is that okay?"

"It's yours, Bill. Do whatever you wish with it." Mycroft smiles. "The floor in the new flat is very…"

"Blue?"

Billy laughs

"It's Yves Klein blue. Poured and polished rubber. Really cutting edge designer stuff. I really like it.    The rubber and the blue. It's actually really nice underfoot, warm…"

"It might be difficult to find furniture to complement it…"

"Yeah. There's some bits and pieces included in the price, but we'll probably change them. We'll have to live in it for a while and decide what we want. Greg will love the kitchen and the bathroom, anyway."

"Has he not seen it?"

"No. He doesn't know about it yet. I haven't got round to telling him. I've been looking for somewhere ever since I came back from Scotland, really. Greg wasn't really in the picture then, was he?"

"I thought you liked the houseboat…"

"I love it. It's brilliant in the summer. But it gets really cold in the winter. It's not well-insulated. I suppose I'll need to do something about that. And it's really close to the neighbours. A couple of them moan about my music. We get more moans now that Greg's there. Two guitars… And the kitchen really isn't big enough for him to go to town in. The new place'll be better."

"Even so, it might have been advisable to mention it…"

"It's mine, Mycroft. He's not having to put any money into it. He's still got his place in Peckham. If he doesn't like it, he can live there."

Billy knows he sounds a bit sulky. He can't seem to help it lately. He and Lestrade seem to rub each other up the wrong way. Apart from music, their interests don't really coincide. It was easy to ignore that in Scotland. The relationship was very new, and Billy had no friends and little life experience. It has become more difficult now that Billy has status and a small, but growing social circle. Lestrade doesn't seem to want him to change.

"Bill, are you two experiencing difficulties?"

Billy sighs.

"No. Not really. He just forgets to tell me things. Like this holiday. He didn't check to see if I could get time off. Just booked it. I couldn't get away to go to Scotland with him, and I'm going to miss the first day of the Paris break."

He smiles, a little tight-lipped.

"I suppose I'm doing the same with the new flat. But I wasn't with him when I made the first offer for it. And that wasn't my fault, or my choice. He broke off the engagement, I didn't."

He shrugs.

"He'll see it when we get back from Paris."

 

 

 

**********

<http://doctorbillyposts.tumblr.com>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, sorry. Maybe one more to come, then they'll start getting longer. Promise.


	4. "I love you in lace…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Lestrade are on holiday in Paris

"Is DI Dimmock around?"

"I'm sorry, son. You can't just waltz in here off the street. How did you get past the desk staff?"

Billy has gone to the Serious Crimes Command at New Scotland Yard to share some information he thinks is important to the ongoing investigation into his own kidnapping by Tom Knox, earlier in the year. He knows the way, he has been there before, with Detective Inspector Theodore Dimmock.

"I need to speak to DI Dimmock. It's important. I've got some information for him about a case he's working on. I've got photos I need to show him."

Billy doesn't ask to see DI Gregson, whose case it technically is. He knows Lestrade sets more store by Dimmock's work, and he trusts his judgement. In this matter at least. 

"He's not here just now. Give them to me, son. I'll see he gets them"

The sergeant isn't being obstructive on purpose, but he is obviously a stickler for the rules. It is clear to Billy that no one in Lestrade's office has the faintest idea who he is, despite his having been a kidnap victim, linked to a complex and disturbing set of assaults and murders. He is surprised and disappointed that no one recognises him as the live-in lover of their Detective Chief Inspector, either.

"When will he be back? The pictures are on my phone."

"I've no idea how long he'll be, son. Leave your name and I'll get a message to him. "

"Never mind. I'll text him myself."

"He knows you then? You one of his fancy boys?"

The sergeant leers in a nasty sort of way.

Billy flushes. Homophobia is obviously a problem that Dimmock and Lestrade have to deal with here. He sympathises, but doesn't really understand. He has never had it directed at him. _"Perhaps I'm too thick to notice"_ , he thinks, _"like I was too thick to notice someone flirting with me."_

"Perhaps Sergeant Donovan could take a look at them. Is she here?"

"No. She's out as well. Best thing is to phone and make an appointment."

Billy clenches his jaw into a tight smile. Stays deliberately polite. 

"Thank you for your help, sergeant. I'll do that."

He makes his way down to the street, buys a coffee from the stall on the corner and sits on a wall to drink it. Texts Dimmock.

***To: TD: Dropped by the Yard to show you a picture. BW***

He waits a few minutes, drinking his coffee. Dumps the empty cup in a bin and has gone a few yards from the corner when his phone pings. 

***To: BW: Crime scene. Sorry I missed you. What picture? Can you message it? TD***

***To: TD: Resolution's too high. Won't send. I'll try emailing, but don't hold your breath. It's something I noticed at the Angel earlier. BW***

***To: BW: Show it to Greg? TD***

***To: TD: Greg's in Paris. BW***

***To: BW: Separate holidays? Want to watch that. Thin end of the wedge :) TD***

***To: TD: He had to have June. I have to work. He needs a break. You lot will call him in if he stays at home. I miss him :( BW ***

***To: BW: Just kidding. Can you describe the picture? What caught your eye? TD***

***To: TD: They've been widening the pavement outside the tattoo studio. I noticed a vent that doesn't look as if it needs to be there. It would have been under the road surface before. I wonder if there's more cellar space than there should be. You might want to take a look. BW ***

***To: BW: What were you doing there? TD***

***To: TD: I was thinking about getting more ink. Went there on autopilot, sort of. BW***

***To: TD: Please don't call Greg back from Paris. I'm meeting him there tonight. BW***

***To: TD: There's a sergeant looks like a potato in your office. Asked me if I was one of your fancy boys. You need to watch yourself Theo. I didn't tell him who I was. BW***

*** To: BW: Bastard. I know the one. Thanks for the heads up. And I'll check out the Angel. Enjoy Paris. TD***

*****

Billy heaves himself out of his seat on the Eurostar train and climbs down onto the platform. Walks slowly through Gare du Nord station, carrying his backpack, looking around him. He is sure Lestrade said he would meet him, but there is no sign of the detective. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scowls at the dead screen. Sighing, he crosses to a self-service machine and buys a carnet of metro tickets. 

Billy has become used to staying overnight in hotels when he has to speak at conferences, but the Hôtel Duc de Saint-Simon is a level above anywhere he has previously stayed. He feels slightly intimidated as he approaches the reception desk. This feeling isn't helped by the obvious disdain the concierge displays on seeing the young travel-worn man, who looks as if he needs directions to the nearest youth hostel. 

"Bonsoir. Je suis le docteur Bill Wiggins. Je crois que j'ai une réservation? Mon compagnon, Monsieur Lestrade, serait arrivé hier."

Billy's French isn't fluent, but he is sure it isn't bad enough to warrant the blatant sneer on the concierge's face. 

"Ah, oui monsieur. Vous êtes sur le premier étage. Voici votre clé. Chambre 125."

The concierge waves vaguely towards a set of double doors. Billy shoulders them open, walks tiredly up a staircase and along a corridor. Opens the door to room 125, looks around. A very nice, very empty room. A lot of pale blue damask. Big bed, chaise longue, heavy dark wood furniture. 

He opens a door. Wardrobe. Jeans, shirts. Another door. Bathroom. Extract of limes travel kit. Lestrade is here, then. Or at least somewhere in Paris. 

Billy sighs, scrabbles in his bag for his own toiletries, strips off and showers, feeling his muscles unknot. He dresses in something slightly more respectable, loose jeans, pale blue t-shirt and navy blazer, adds glass-chip jewellery. 

He remembers his phone needs charging. It is completely dead, will need to charge for half an hour before it will be any use. He plugs it in, slides cigarettes and lighter into one jeans pocket, money and bank card into another, steps out into the corridor, locking the room and pocketing the key. 

He strolls down to the foyer, nodding at the concierge, who does a double-take at the transformation of the scruff into the pretty young man; steps out onto the streets of Paris for the first time in his life. 

*****

Lestrade hums happily as he saunters towards Gare du Nord. A few days in Scotland have relaxed him, and it had been warm enough for him to top up his tan. He is looking forward to seeing Billy. Has missed him a lot. He strolls into the station, checks the indicator board. 10 minutes. He leans against a pillar, settles himself to wait. And wait. 

He starts to worry. The train arrived on time, and he has waited until all the passengers have disembarked. Has waited until the cleaning crew have boarded and it is clear there was no one left on the train. He looks around the station, starting to panic. Billy has gone missing before. He pulls out his phone, taps his contacts list, calls Billy. Straight to voicemail. 

_"Billy. It's Greg. Where are you? I'm at Gare du Nord. You weren't on the train. Call me back. Please."_

He thinks for a moment. Texts. 

***To: BW: Where are you, Billy? GL***

No reply. He texts again. 

***To: BW: Did you miss the train? GL***

***To: TD: Theo. Can you call St Pancras Eurostar for me? See if Billy checked in? ASAP. GL***

***To: GL: Okay. TD***

Lestrade starts walking back to the metro. No point in waiting at the station. His phone pings. 

***To: GL: He checked in and should have arrived at 18.25 our time. That would be 19.25 Paris time. He should be well there by now. He texted me earlier. He was looking forward to seeing you. TD***

***To: TD: Thanks T. I got the times wrong. I'll go back to the hotel. See if he's there. GL***

He jumps on a metro train, travels half a dozen stops, gets off near the hotel, trots into the foyer. 

"Excusez-moi. Ont-il eu des messages pour moi? Un message du Dr Wiggins? Je m'appelle Lestrade…"

The concierge raises an eyebrow, mentally connecting this handsome man with the pretty, much younger man who had nodded to him earlier. 

"Non monsieur, pas de messages. Mais le docteur Wiggins le check-in, il sortit de nouveau, il ya un certain temps, il se dirigeait vers la rivière…"

"Merci"

Lestrade turns and runs out of the hotel down the street towards the river. It isn't far, but he is panting as he reaches the Pont Royale, looking around with his policeman's eyes, searching the bank, the nearest part of the bridge, looking for someone tall. Spotting black hair, blue shirt, a young man leaning on the parapet, smoking. 

Billy is on his third cigarette. Beginning to feel hungry. Feeling hurt that Lestrade hasn't met him. He jumps as strong arms grab his shoulders. 

"Greg?"

"Expecting someone else? I've been frantic. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"It died. I've got it charging in the room. The hotel's nice. Good shower. Snotty receptionist, though. Why were you frantic? Something happen?"

"You weren't on the train. I didn't know where you were…"

"I was. You weren't there to meet me…"

"You said 7:25. That's 8:25 here…"

"Greg. I meant 7:25 here. I'd already factored in the time difference. We must have missed each other. Sorry. I shouldn't have let my phone die."

"Never mind. We're both here now."

Lestrade feels foolish. He gets panicky too easily these days. He pulls Billy round to face him, kisses him hard. Breathes gently into his ear.

"I missed you". 

Billy smiles to himself, tilts his head to let Lestrade kiss his neck. 

"I missed you too."

They walk across the bridge. The evening is warm, and both men shed their jackets, Lestrade rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt. 

"You're really tanned. I love your skin. I daren't let mine see the sun. I burn really quickly. You're all golden and lovely."

Lestrade flushes, his ears pink under the tan. 

"Not all of me…"

"I'll have to check later…"

"Is that a promise?"

"Yeah. How was Scotland? How's Jackie?"

"Jackie's fine. He's still with Mycroft. I think they're planning to move in together at some point. He's won some kind of bravery award, I can't remember what it's called. There's going to be a presentation…"

"Yeah. I know. At the Guildhall. I got an invitation…"

"Me too. Hope I don't have to work…"

They reach the far side of the bridge, walking slowly, in step, silently. Until Billy's stomach rumbles. He laughs.

"Greg, I'm starving. Can we find somewhere to eat?"

"Yeah. Let's see if we can find some filthy food for you. It's been too long…"

*****

Lestrade hums as he towels off. He has taken advantage of the hotel's indoor pool. He loves swimming, loves to push himself hard, use all his muscles. He has left Billy sleeping upstairs in their room. Billy can swim, but he doesn't like to expose his tattoos to public gaze. They are beautiful tattoos, he designed them himself, but he gets himself inked for the pain of being inked, not for the look of the tattoos. Only a handful of people have ever seen the full extent of his body art.

Lestrade smiles, thinking of the previous night. It had felt as if they were brand-new lovers again, getting to know each other. Billy had clung to him afterwards, in a way he hasn't for a while. Lestrade had held him tight, whispering nonsense into his ear, cuddling him to sleep. 

Lestrade walks into the bedroom, stops as he sees Billy is getting dressed. 

"Sorry, Bill. Thought you'd still be asleep. _Oh. There you are…"_

He smiles a soft, pure Lestrade smile. Billy catches his breath. He hasn't seen him smile like that for a long while. 

"What are you on about? I haven't been anywhere…"

"You've been looking like a grown-up lately. Like Dr Wiggins. I missed my Billy."

"Daft git. I can't go round looking like an indie boy all the time…"

Billy is wearing tight, low-slung jeans, winkle-pickers, a black crew-necked, lace-edged, long-sleeved vest; rings; glass chips on a thong round his neck. His hair is shaggy, heavy-fringed. He is as indie-boy as it gets.

"Don't see why you can't. You look fantastic. I love you in lace."

Billy smiles sadly. He knows Lestrade doesn't want him to change, to grow up.

"Hmm. I have to go to meetings with corporations, bid for funding. I need them to focus on what I'm saying, not get confused by what I look like."

"Yeah. I know. But still…"

"I'll wear lace for you until I start looking stupid in it."

He kisses the corner of Lestrade's mouth, sighs as the detective turns and deepens the kiss. 

"I love you, Billy. I really, really love you". 

"I love you too, Greg. But you've got to stop doing this."

Lestrade's face crumples. 

"Greg, you idiot. I just meant if you keep doing this I'll have to get undressed again…"

"Would that be so terrible?"

"No, but we're in Paris. It would be quite nice to actually see a bit of Paris…"

"Spoilsport. Oh, all right. Come on then. Let's be tourists."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really isn't a story about holidays.
> 
> I don't speak French.


	5. "That's him. He did it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is in a LOT of trouble. Billy doesn't believe it. Dimmock doesn't want to…

"That's him."

The girl trembles. _Cold, as well as frightened_ , Dimmock thinks. The young street girl has just identified the man who she says has assaulted and raped her, picking him out of a set of images on VIPER, the virtual identity parade program. Rather than going to her local police station, she had turned up at New Scotland Yard to make her accusation, naming her alleged attacker. Dimmock had been on duty at the time, and had quickly made it his business to take charge of the matter, keep the case as quiet as possible until the alleged rapist was charged. _Or not_ , as he hoped. 

"Sergeant, can you get the young lady a blanket, please? She's cold. And a cup of tea?"

The girl is supermodel-tall. Well over six foot in her ridiculous sparkly high heels. And thin. She looks disturbingly like Billy Wiggins from the back, Dimmock thinks. Apart from the hair, and the clothes. 

Bruises stand out on her upper arms and thighs, starting to fade, but still purplish against very white skin. More bruises and scarring around the wrists and ankles. Healed and reopened, by the look of them. She's clearly been restrained. _Handcuffs_ , Dimmock thinks. 

Dimmock swallows, his throat thick. The girl turns and gives him a watery smile. He swallows again, feels his neck turning pink. _What is wrong with him?_ She isn't pretty-pretty. Quite boyish. _Androgynous_ , that's the word. Long, long bare legs, a very short skirt, some cheap satiny fabric. A Lycra top stretched tight over small, almost-not-there breasts, three or four inches of pale abdomen showing. 

Dimmock's gaze travels up to the girl's face. Enormous ice-blue eyes. Lots of eyeshadow and liner, thick black mascara. White-blonde hair, cut short and choppy. _It doesn't look bleached_ , Dimmock thinks. _She probably cuts it herself_. Bitten nails, sparkly nail polish flaking off. 

"What happens now, Officer? Can I go?"

"You need to see our doctor, Miss. To check you over. A female officer will go with you. Then social services will take you to a safe place."

"No. I don't need to see a doctor. Or the social. I won't go with them. I've got a place…"

The voice is deep, for a girl. A scots accent. 

"Sorry, Miss. You definitely have to see the doctor. We need to assess your injuries. You've made a serious accusation. It's a pity you waited so long before reporting the rape, DNA evidence would have been helpful. But we can still find signs of injuries. That will strengthen your case against your alleged attacker."

The girl cries, wiping snot and smudged mascara on the edge of the blanket she's been given. A uniformed WPC leads her away to see the doctor.

*****

"Greg. I'm so sorry. I have to do this."

Dimmock takes a deep breath, swallows.

"Gregor Lestrade, I am arresting you on suspicion of assault and rape. You do not have to say anything…"

Dimmock feels sick. He can't believe that the man he looks up to would do, could do what he had been accused of. That he has to be the arresting officer makes it all so much worse. The look of shock on Lestrade's face is mirrored by the look of horror on Billy's, as his lover is handcuffed and his rights recited to him. Lestrade whispers urgently to Billy.

"Call Mycroft. And Sherlock. Find out what this is about. I didn't rape anyone. Believe me, Billy. This is a mistake…"

Dimmock turns to Billy.

"Will you be all right? We'll be taking him to Limehouse. It's the nearest custody suite. Do you want me to get someone to give you a lift home?"

"No. I'll get myself home. You know this is wrong, Theo."

He is texting as he speaks.

*** To: MH: Greg has been arrested. Needs a solicitor quick. Dimmock arrested him at London City Airport just now. They're taking him to Limehouse. BW***

***To: MH: I KNOW HE DIDNT DO IT. HELP HIM. Please, Mycroft. BW***

***To: BW: Solicitor will meet him at Limehouse Police Station. Car will collect you from airport. MH***

Lestrade is led away from the plane, through London City Airport to a waiting patrol car. He does not struggle. He knows there is no point in that.

Dimmock walks back to Billy, puts a hand on his shoulder as they follow.

"Get off me, Theo. You know he didn't rape anyone. This is a mistake. We've been in Paris since last week. You know we have. When was he supposed to have done this?"

"I can't give you any information, Billy, I'm sorry. He needs a solicitor. Talk to Mycroft. Please. Let me get you home."

"Mycroft's already on this. Don't you do anything to him until his solicitor gets there. He's not a rapist, Mr Dimmock. You know him. He's a good, kind, man. Someone's stitching him up. You need to find out who."

A black limousine pulls up next to the patrol car, blocking it from leaving. Dimmock clenches his fist in Billy's jacket, leaning in to speak quietly

"Billy. I don't believe it. But there is evidence. And there's talk about him liking his sex partners young…it doesn't look good."

"Don't, Mr Dimmock. Or you'll have to arrest me for assaulting a police officer. _Sex partners?_ You know what that talk's worth. Now let go of me. Do your job. Do it properly."

Billy pulls away from Dimmock, walks slowly over to the limousine, taking his time to get settled in the back with Anthea, Mycroft's assistant, who smiles at him briefly before carrying on with the text conversation she is having. 

Eventually, she looks up and speaks to the driver. 

"We've held up the patrol car long enough. Best not to irritate them unnecessarily. Let's go."

The limousine pulls away. Billy slumps in the corner of the car. What is happening? He knows it has to be a mistake. 

Dimmock isn't too perturbed about being held up by Anthea and the limousine. He is aware that it is a delaying tactic, a way of ensuring that Lestrade will not be kept waiting too long for his solicitor. 

He knows he has a maximum of twenty four hours before Lestrade will have to be charged or set free, thirty six if the commissioner gets involved, as he might. He hopes that there is no one at Limehouse with a grudge against Lestrade, no one he has beaten to a promotion, no one he has taken a high-profile case away from. He is sure that Billy is right. That someone is trying to stitch Lestrade up. He hopes he can find out who, and quickly.


	6. Frankie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed…

Dimmock leans against the wall of Mycroft's office, scowling.

"I'm off the case. Gregson's taken it over. I've been disciplined for letting her go. I didn't, she did a runner. Don't know how she got away. We were holding her waiting for social services. I say her…" He grinds knuckles into his eyes. "Could be him…"

Mycroft raises an eyebrow. He has called together a select, small group. Billy is there, of course, along with Sherlock, Dimmock and Jack Logan, who is back from his break in Scotland.

"Him, Theodore ?"

"Yeah. It's weird. We got her-him to see the doctor. The victim has been anally raped. More than once, according to the Doc, the most recent ten days or so ago. Has restraint marks, wrists and ankles. Look like they've healed and been opened up several times. Signs of struggling against metallic restraints. Had the look of cuff marks, to my eye."

The marks had indeed looked as if the victim had struggled against handcuffs. Dimmock was experienced enough to be confident that the young person had been cuffed  _to_ something.

"The bruising on the upper arms and thighs is definitely finger marks. But too small and close together to be from Greg's hands. That may be helpful. Now here's the weird stuff. Victim goes by the name of Frankie. That's all we could get out of her. Him. DNA shows up a Y chromosome." He pauses to let implications sink in before continuing. "Frankie is aged somewhere around sixteen. He's been having female hormone supplements. Injections, the doc said. Looks like a botched sex change. He's far too young, of course, so the surgery is unlikely to be legal. The breasts are not fully developed yet, but at sixteen, that wouldn't be significant. From the waist down, he's female. Ish." He rakes hands through his hair. "There's been some surgery, infibulation, the doctor called it, but he said there's more work than usual. The kid wouldn't confirm whether he, she wants to be male or female. Wouldn't talk about anything other than the accusation against Greg."

Sherlock looks as if there is a bad smell under his nose.

"Lestrade would never commit rape. I am absolutely sure of that. He might hug someone, or kiss their cheek, but he would never go further, even if invited to. He has a very strong set of moral standards."

"So you don't think it was a pickup gone wrong? Kid looks like a tart… pretty though. Tall…"

"Lestrade does not cheat. He was married for most of the time I knew him, and absolutely faithful to his wife, despite her multiple affairs. He wasn't happy, but he didn't cheat. Ever. I would have known, and yes, I would have taken advantage of any cheating to press my suit. By the time he was free, I had met John…"

Sherlock sighs, a little wistfully. _If I hadn't met John…_

"Then Greg fell in love with Billy, of course. He would never be unfaithful to Billy."

Billy has been listening, anxiety sitting like a weight on his chest.

"I knew him for three years before we shared a bed. He'd just sit with me when there was a thunderstorm, talk to me to stop me from getting too scared. Bring me cups of tea or fish and chips if he thought I looked too hungry. He was kind. He's still kind. Even after we did start sleeping together he waited until I made the first move. He shared a bed with me for six weeks without trying…he didn't rape that kid. I know it. What evidence have you got against him other than the allegation?"

Dimmock sighs.

"She. He. Can we decide on a pronoun, please?"

"I think we should consider the victim to be female for the time being. She presented herself as female, wore female clothing, has clearly been receiving treatment, has begun to develop breasts. It seems to me that her apparent wish to change genders should be respected…"

"All right, Mycroft. She described the assailant as having scars. Her words were " _as if someone had hacked at him with a big knife._ "

"What else can you tell us, Theo?"

Sherlock is tight-lipped.

"I managed to get a picture of the kid. I know I shouldn't have, but I'm glad I did. Maybe you might be able to get your homeless network to find her."

Dimmock calls up the image on his phone, shows it to the group. Logan gasps.

"I know this kid."

"She's got a Scottish accent."

"Aye. It'll be a Dundee accent. This is Frances Knox. Tom Knox's little sister. Are you saying she's not actually a girl?"

The room goes quiet. _Tom Knox…_

Mycroft smiles tightly.

"What can you tell us about her, Jack?"

"She's a sweet kid. Seventeen soon, I think. Should be in school, studying for her Highers. Bright. Wants to be an archaeologist. I can't believe… a sex change? How could she have been a boy and no one know? I'm going to call her doctor. See what I can find out."

"Sherlock. Will you see if you can find this Frankie? I want to talk to her. Bring her to my new place."

"What have you got in mind, Billy?"

"I've got an idea. Not sure yet. Mycroft, can you get me in to see Greg? It's really important. You need to come as well. And Sherlock and Theo. A private meeting. Just the four of us and Greg. No officers or men in black or Antheas. I'm not going to try to get him out. But it is really important."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Billy. I didn't do what they're saying I did…"

Lestrade is standing almost to attention, holding himself rigid, spine straight, chin up, not looking anyone in the eye.

"I know, Greg. I know you didn't."

Billy quickly goes to him and wraps his arms around him. Kisses his cheek. Lestrade sags with relief.

"Have you come to take me home?"

"Not yet, Greg. But it will be soon, I'm sure. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. At least I'm in a government facility and not in the cells. That your doing, Mycroft? Thanks. Keeps me away from the villains I've put in there. And coppers who don't like me. That'll change if Gregson charges me, won't it? Depressing…"

Billy whispers in Lestrade's ear.

"Greg. I have to ask you something, and I need an absolutely truthful answer. Has anyone, apart from me and the artist, seen your ink? Think carefully. Any medical examinations? Any sneaky glances? Any…"

He chokes

"Billy. No one has seen it. No one. I'm sure."

"Okay then. You have to trust me now."

"Billy…"

Lestrade sighs, resigned. Billy turns to Dimmock.

"Mr Dimmock, Theo. Did the victim say anything else? Give any other description?"

"No. But she picked him out on VIPER."

"Theo. Do you think he did it?"

"I don't want to, Bill. But I've seen some bad things…I'm a copper. I have to listen to victims. This kid _has_ been raped. Or had some very rough sex. Over a period of time. There's no doubt about that. I'm inclined to think it was rape, given the other injuries and her age."

"Anyone else think he could have done it?"

Lestrade sighs.

"Billy. Even _I_ would arrest me with this evidence. I don't even know who it is I'm supposed to have…"

Billy turns to face the group, standing in front of Lestrade, as if to protect him.

"I am absolutely certain that Greg did not do this. I don't need proof. I just know it. But there is proof. Greg has a distinguishing feature that none of you knows about. Mr Dimmock, one last time, did the victim mention any other distinguishing marks?"

"No. None."

"All right, Greg. I think you should show them."

"Billy, please…"

"If you don't, they'll have doubts. I won't have them doubting you. I _won't_. Showing them will convince them."

"Show us what, Greg?"

"This"

Lestrade stands, blushing, finds a blank space on the wall to stare at, unbuttons his fly, pushes his trousers and pants down far enough to show the scars, and what covers them.

There is silence in the room, broken by Sherlock.

"Heliotrope. Perfect colour. Difficult to source that particular colour of ink…"

Dimmock splutters

"Sherlock. We're looking at a man with flowers tattooed on his dick, and you're interested in the colour of the INK?"

Mycroft smiles

"It's beautiful, Gregor. I'm not surprised you kept it as a secret though…"

Logan laughs.

"Beats mine…"

"Fuck off, Jackie."

Lestrade is trembling. He feels sick. Sherlock drops to his knees in front of Lestrade, examining the scars and tattoo carefully.

"May I touch it?"

"No, Sherlock."

Lestrade is scarlet, pretty much everywhere. Sherlock pouts a bit, shrugs, and stands up.

"Can I reclaim some dignity now? Billy. I can't believe you made me do that…"

"I'm sorry, Greg. But it was important. Sherlock can explain why."

"Yes. In a moment. But I think Lestrade needs a few minutes to recover from his embarrassment, and we all need a little time to process our own reactions to this revelation. Mycroft, can you arrange some coffee for us all?"

Mycroft raises an eyebrow, recognising a delaying tactic. He does not question his brother, but sends a text to his assistant. Coffee arrives within a few minutes, and they make small talk while they drink, deliberately not speaking about the case. Billy sits and holds Lestrade's hand. He doesn't know when he will next have the opportunity to be in physical contact with his lover. After ten minutes or so, Sherlock calls them back to attention.

"Shall we get on? I'm going to exclude myself from this little experiment, but Mycroft, Logan, Dimmock, please take out your phones and send me a text of the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Lestrade's lower body. Now."

After a few seconds, Sherlock's phone pings three times.

***To: SH: Heliotrope. Beautiful. MH***

***To: SH: OMG. WTF?. He's got flowers tattooed on his dick. TD***

***To: SH: Tattoo. Purple flowers. Must have hurt like hell. JL***

"Billy's point is proven, I think"

Sherlock shows them his text inbox.

"When asked to describe Lestrade's body, you all described the tattoo as the first thing you thought of. Not the scars, not the golden tan or toned muscles, not the frankly impressive girth of his penis…"

Lestrade laughs bitterly, blushing again. Sherlock smiles at him gently.

"I suggest that the victim was told about the attempt to mutilate Lestrade by someone who knew about it but did not know how successfully it was repaired and the scars disguised. And certainly by someone who did not know about the tattoo. If the victim had actually seen Lestrade's body, she would have given a very different description."

"Thank you, Sherlock. That's what I thought"

Billy is relieved. None of the men in this room now have any doubts of Lestrade's innocence.

"But how did she pick me out ?"

Billy turns to Dimmock

"Can you show him the picture, Mr Dimmock?"

"I'm not even supposed to have the picture, Bill. Oh, all right, but no one is to know outside of this room."

Dimmock shows Lestrade the photograph of Frances Knox. Lestrade blinks.

"I know her, T. She was on the street, about a fortnight ago. Homeless. And scared. It was pissing down with rain and she didn't have a coat. She tried to pick me up. Got me wrong, obviously. She was a beginner. I thought I might be able to stop her…I took her to a hostel. Name's Franny or something like it…why would she…"

Logan grips Lestrade's arm, to steady him.

"The alleged victim isn't just a street girl, Greg. It's Frances Knox, Greg. Tom's little sister."

"So someone associated with Knox is stitching me up? This kid can't be doing it on her own. He's still after me, isn't he? I thought you'd got him, Mycroft. You told me you had him locked up, after the business with Dimmock. Did he get away again? Who's helping him? God, when will this end?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg didn't do it! 
> 
> Is Frankie a girl or a boy? More on that later…


	7. "I'll buy the beer…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendship is developing…

***To: BW: Missed you in the library today. Hope I haven't offended you. LC***

Billy smiles. He had been looking forward to meeting up with Liam again. The Irishman is good company, and it is nice to be able to talk about science to someone who really understands what he is saying.

He is really pleased to have made a new friend. One who is not connected to crime in any way.

Life has become a bit fraught since Billy got back from Paris, though, and he hadn't thought to text Liam to let him know he wouldn't be able to hang around on campus today.

***To: LC: No, course not. Sorry. Did you get my picture? BW***

Billy had sent Liam a selfie from the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was a great picture, girders and clouds framing him.

***To: BW: Yes. Gave me vertigo. Why isn't the boyfriend in the pic? LC***

***To: LC: He doesn't like lifts. BW***

Lestrade had waited at the foot of the tower for Billy to come down. Nothing could persuade him into the lift up to the viewing platform, and the six hundred or more steps hadn't appealed. " _I'm too old for that_ " he'd said. " _You go._ "

Billy sends Liam a picture of himself and Lestrade in front of the glass pyramid at the Louvre. It is a typical tourist shot. Lestrade had shown a passing _flic_ his badge, and after a rattled conversation in French, the officer had laughingly taken the picture for them.

***To: BW: Wow. Pretty. Bit older than you though? LC***

***To: LC: Don't really notice the age gap. BW***

***To: BW: Did you do ALL the touristy things? LC***

They had, pretty much. They had seen the Left Bank by night, spent half a day in Versailles, climbed the staircase to Sacre Coeur.

They had gone to a flea market. Billy had bought vintage underwear, cards of glass and pearl buttons, yards of old lace. Lestrade had bought French punk music, on original vinyl.

Lestrade had found a great bistro, where they had eaten tomato tarte tatin, and Billy had dragged mussels from their shells with his teeth, tongue and fingers. " _Filthy food_ ", he had whispered.

They had spent a lot of time in bed.

***To: BW: Tell me all about it on Friday. LC***

***To: LC: Sorry. I don't think I'll be there on Friday, either. Got some personal stuff to sort out. BW**

***To: BW: Boyfriend trouble? I hope ;) LC***

***To: BW: Or are you giving me the brush-off? :( LC***

Billy giggles.

***To: LC: No. Neither. Stop flirting! BW***

***To: BW: Can't blame a guy for trying. LC***

***To: LC: What have you been up to? BW***

***To: BW: I've been putting a bid together for Calgary Uni. New project. Tell you about it when I see you next. LC***

***To: LC: Okay. I should be there next week. I'll buy the beer. BW***


	8. "If I help you…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie reveals some things. A plot is hatched…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing nasty actually happens here, but some nasty things are mentioned in conversation.

"Shoes off, please. Don't want to make holes in this nice floor."

Sherlock smiles at the young person beside him, kicking off his own italian leather shoes in reassurance. Frankie bends and slips off sparkly Perspex stilettos, picking them up with one hand and clutching them tightly. Then looks around nervously, shivering in thin, cheap clothes.

The room Frankie is in is huge, high-ceilinged, painted flat white, with a brilliant blue floor. One end is a kitchen, all white, with floor to ceiling shutters that can close it off from the living area. The other end is for sitting. A collection of mis-matched furniture, nearly all white, breaks up the expanse of blue.

A fair-haired man sprawls in a white leather Le Corbusier chair and a younger, dark haired man sits on a clear acrylic Louis Ghost chair at a large white circular table.

"I think you can take the cuffs off, Shezz. I'm sure our guest isn't going to try to run away."

Billy smiles at the young person from his seat at the table at the kitchen end of the room.

"It's Frankie, isn't it?"

"How do you know my name? Who are you?"

Frankie looks at Billy speculatively, licking chapped lips.

"My name's Bill, Frankie. I used to be homeless, not so long ago. I got a second chance. How would you like a second chance? A chance to go to college? Have a life?"

"He won't let me. He'll find me. He'll hurt me again…"

"No he won't, Frances. I'll make sure he doesn't."

The soft Scottish lilt makes Frankie gasp.

"Inspector Logan? _Jack_?"

"Aye, you'll be okay. You're safe here. Listen to Bill. He knows what he's talking about."

The tall inspector comes in from the terrace, gathers the young person in his arms, hugging tight.

"We know what Tom has done. You won't be prosecuted, if you help us catch him. You won't be in any danger. I won't let him get near you. Now, Bill wants to talk to you privately. Go with him, eh?"

"All right."

Sherlock unlocks the handcuffs that secure Frankie's wrist to his own. Billy stands and holds out his hand.

They climb the open plan stairs to the mezzanine floor that stretches along the whole length of one side of the loft, where the bedrooms, bathroom and study are situated. Billy leads the way to the main bedroom, closing the door behind them, and indicates that Frankie should sit on the bed.

Frankie stares at Billy, scared, trying to hide the fear. Billy speaks quietly.

"I might have a proposition for you, Frankie. But first, we need to clarify some things. You might not want to talk about some of this stuff, but it's important. Inspector Logan told me he's checked with your GP in Dundee who says there are some problems around your gender…"

Frankie's response is emphatic. 

"I'm a boy. I don't want to be a girl any more. I don't. I just… People think I'm a girl. They've got used to me wearing pretty things. Not this stuff…"

Frankie gestures at the cheap skirt and top he is wearing.

"I didn't choose this…"

"So you're definitely not transsexual? See, it looks like you're changing from a boy to a girl, not the other way around."

Frankie sniffs. He looks as if he is about to cry.

"My brother told me when I was born, they weren't sure what I was. My ma really wanted a wee girl, so they told her to bring me up as one."

Billy suspects that it wasn't as straightforward as all that, but keeps his thoughts to himself.

"Last summer, everything went peculiar. I started getting hairs on my chest, and my voice started changing. Id thought I was a boy for a long time, really, and that proved it, sort of. "

 _Puberty_ Billy thinks. "You were fifteen?" 

"Nearly sixteen. My ma went berserk. Dragged me around all these doctors… I thought they were going to open up my… Anyway, I had an operation. Not a serious one, a minor procedure, they called it. Like an appendix, just a couple of days in a clinic, then they gave me a hormone implant under my arm. I dug it out with a penknife, but the hair hasn't come back, and… " 

"Your voice is quite deep. It will stay like that, I expect. You're tall, as well…"

"I'm six foot one…" he sniffs back tears again. "Six foot one, with tits and no prick. I might as well be a girl. I haven't got the right stuff to be a boy." He looks up defiantly. "And I like heels and nail varnish. And I like boys. so there!"

Billy isn't good at people, but even he can see Frankie is on the edge of hysteria. He tries to lighten the moment.

"I like boys and nail varnish too, and the only reason I don't wear heels is that I'd be knocking my head against everything. Your hair is amazing. Do you bleach it?"

"No. It's natural. My brother's blond as well…"

Frankie breaks down and sobs.

Billy reaches out and puts his arms around the teenager, pulling him in to cry on his shoulder.

"I know your brother. He beat me up when I was in Scotland last year. Kicked me in the bollocks. I was peeing blood for days. I broke his nose…"

"That was you? He never said who'd done it. I thought it was that poor copper. Lestrade. I need to tell Inspector Logan I lied. Tom made me…"

"Jackie knows. But he'd probably like to hear it from you, anyway. We all know Mister Lestrade didn't hurt you…"

"He didn't. He was nice to me. He was the first person in London who was kind. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. You won't be in trouble over it. Although Mister Lestrade might not be best friends with you for a while. He is kind though. He won't blame you."

Frankie smiles tearfully, doubtfully.

"Your brother hurt a lot of people. Including me. And you. You're too young to be so messed up. You're injecting hormones. After you'd dug out an implant. How did he persuade you to do it again?"

"He didn't give me a choice. He tied me up and injected me. I thought it was drugs at first. I knew what it was by the time he brought the other bloke in. He gave him real drugs…"

Billy realises he must be talking about Dara Kerrigan, a victim in Knox's last known crime spree. Dimmock and Logan will want to talk to Frankie about that. He hopes they won't be too hard on him.

"He thinks it will make him look more normal if I'm a girl."

"Make HIM look more normal?"

"He told me his new mates don't like gays. He needs to have a girlfriend he can show off. Any woman would know straight away he's gay. He needs me …"

Billy is appalled.

"He's been giving you overdoses of hormones to make the breast tissues grow fast? How long has he been doing it?"

"He brought me to London just after Hogmanay. I thought it was for a holiday. Then he locked me in a cellar, and it started then. The injections make me sore and swollen… I don't like it. I want to be normal. Everything hurts. He handcuffs me to the bed to stop me fighting. I should just stop fighting, I suppose, but I can't… I ran away, once, and that copper, Lestrade, helped me. Gave me a blanket, to keep me warm. Found me a place in a hostel. Tom was really cruel when he got me back. But I think he let me get away that time…"

"Yeah. He must have been setting Mister Lestrade up. He's got a grudge against him…how did Sherlock get you away this time?"

"He knows the street people. Someone told him where I was, I think. We'd not long moved to the new place. It wasn't as warm as the old place, but at least it wasn't underground. He broke in and picked the locks on my cuffs while Tom was out. He'll be so angry…"

"Who raped you, Frankie?"

"Tom."

Billy had been suspecting exactly that.

"It's all right. You're safe here. I promise."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"Inspector Logan will help look after you. You trust him, don't you?"

Frankie takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"All right. You said you had a proposition?"

The idea had come to Billy as soon as he had found out that Knox had escaped again, and discovered who Lestrade's alleged victim was. It had seemed to be a way of forcing Knox into the open.

He had discussed it with Mycroft, who had agreed to take charge of things, including keeping Lestrade confined and out of the way, so as not to alert Knox to the fact that his scheme to have Lestrade imprisoned had failed.

They have been plotting frantically for two days, hoping that Frankie will co-operate. They had thought the only thing that could go wrong with the plan would be Sherlock failing to find Frankie in time.

Frankie insisting that he is a boy is an added complication. Billy feels uncomfortable with some of the details now. He puts the idea forward carefully.

"Yeah. There's a big gala reception thing at the Guildhall tomorrow. Red carpet do. Jackie Logan's getting an award, and I've been invited. I'll be on a sort of under cover mission. I need someone to go with me. Someone to help me with my cover story. I think we'd make a really good couple. You'd have to wear a dress though. Pretend to be a girl. Just once more. Do you think you can be brave and do it? There'll be cameras and TV and all that stuff. You'll be safe, though. I promise."

"You'll be spying on someone?"

"Sort of…"

"If I help you…"

"Then I'll help you. I've got some influential friends…"

Billy knows he _has_ to persuade Frankie to agree to the plan, but he doesn't like doing it. 

"What will I wear? I couldn't wear this, and I haven't got anything else…"

"I know someone who can borrow a dress you can wear. And I've got shoes for you, look."

Billy hands Frankie a light brown cardboard box. he had asked Anthea to pick it up for him, on the assumption that the plan would go ahead.

Inside is a red cloth bag and a pair of sparkly garnet coloured stilettos with distinctive lipstick red soles.

"Louboutins? Real ones?"

Frankie giggles, a little hysterically, putting on the shoes. He likes shoes, and he is seventeen.

"And they fit. How did you know what size I am?"

"Sherlock found out. I have no idea how. He's really clever. Come over here…"

Billy pulls Frankie over to stand in front of a tall mirror.

"Look at us. With those shoes on, you're as tall as me. We look great together."

They make a striking couple. Billy's black hair and Frankie's white-blond are like negatives of each other. In heels, Frankie is around six foot five, matching Billy's height in cowboy boots.

"What will happen to me afterwards?"

"We'll find you a college place, find you somewhere nice to live. Get your hormones sorted out. You'll do your Highers, if you go back to Scotland. Or A Levels if you decide you'd rather stay in London. Go to university. You'll have your life, Frankie. How does that sound?"

"Too good to be true at the moment."

Frankie laughs, bitterly.

"I don't think I can be normal. I've had too many things done to me. You're gay aren't you? Have you got a boyfriend, Bill?"

"Yeah."

"I think I'd like to have a boyfriend. What's it like? Do you live together?"

"Yeah. He's lovely. He cooks for me. I can't cook at all. Can't even heat up beans properly. He's my first boyfriend. I was a late starter, bit of a boffin at school. Still a bit of one now, really."

"You said you were on the streets…"

"Yeah. Things went wrong for me at University. I ended up with no money and no home. Ended up in a squat in Camden, hooked on heroin at twenty two. I was gang-raped…"

"Oh… you _do_ know what it's like…"

"Yeah. Mister Lestrade arrested me for cooking crystal meth. Then made me get clean. He kept an eye on me, then last year Sherlock's brother sorted out the university problem for me so I could go back and finish my PhD. I went to St Andrews. That's where I met Jackie Logan and your brother."

"You've got a PhD? What in?"

"Biomedical chemistry. I do research at Brunel now."

"I wanted to be an archeologist. Is your boyfriend a scientist as well?"

"No. He's a policeman…"

"It's not that fair-haired one downstairs? He was kind, too. Got me a cup of tea at Scotland Yard. Made me see a doctor. He was going to set the social on me, though. Before Tom's mate got me away…"

Billy laughs

"That's DI Dimmock. No, he's not my boyfriend. I like him, though."

"He's an inspector? I thought he was a sergeant. He looks too young to be an inspector."

Billy laughs again.

"He's thirty two. Looks younger, don't he? He's the youngest DI they've ever had at the Yard. I'll introduce you properly later on. He's staying here tonight. So is Sherlock, I think. Although it's hard to pin him down…"

"He looked at me. At Scotland Yard."

Frankie whispers

"I noticed him looking again today, and he blushed…"

"Well, you're really pretty. And you are practically showing your arse in that skirt. Do you want to borrow some boy clothes for this evening? I can lend you some jeans and a t-shirt if you like…"

"Yes please. Have you got a loose top, so these won't show too much?"

He folds his arms over his tiny breasts.

"I suppose he's got a girlfriend…"

He giggles.

"He won't be looking once he knows I'm a boy, I suppose. I sound tarty, don't I? I can't help it. I've had a lot of sex in the last few months. I've only been used for that."

The giggles turn to hiccoughing sobs.

"He's a bit old for you, Frankie."

Billy thinks about it. He likes Dimmock. And the age difference is a lot smaller than that between himself and Lestrade. Dimmock knows what it is like to be raped, too.

"He's gay, though. And I think he's single at the moment. But be careful not to get your heart broken, Frankie. You need time to settle back into yourself. You're not just a sexual convenience. Here. Grab a quick shower and try these on."

He throws a pair of skinny jeans and a loose, pale yellow knitted shirt to the teenager, along with a pair of soft jersey underpants.

*****

Dimmock stops speaking mid-sentence. Swallows, ears turning pink.

"What's up,Theo? Oh…"

Logan follows Dimmock's gaze. A very beautiful young man is coming down the stairs.

Billy follows.

"Time for some proper introductions, I think. Everyone, this is Frankie Knox. He's going to help us out tomorrow, and I am very grateful to him. Frankie, you know Inspector Logan, of course. You've met Sherlock, but I don't suppose he's introduced himself properly. Sherlock?"

"Hmph. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. I'm helping with the investigation of your brother, Frankie. I'm very good at what I do."

"Okay. And this is DI Dimmock, Frankie. Theo?"

"Um. Yes. Theodore Dimmock. Scotland Yard. Detective Inspector. Um. I didn't recognise you with…"

He flushes

"Were you about to say 'with your clothes on', Dimmock? Please spare us the clichés."

Sherlock is at his scathing best.

"Shut up Shezz. Be nice."

Billy smiles. Maybe Dimmock can help Frankie be himself. Or at least help him start on that journey.

*****

Lights flash, bright white, acid yellow. Drums pound. There is smoke everywhere. Screams, sobs, hoarse cries sound in Billy's ears. He realises they are his own cries.

"Greg! Greg! Where are you?"

"It's all right Billy, it's all right. You're dreaming."

A deep velvet voice in his ear, strong arms around him. Sherlock had been in the study, using Billy's computer. He had heard Billy, knows what nightmares sound like.

Lightning sizzles outside. Billy jumps, sobs as the thunder follows. He burrows into Sherlock's chest, shaking.

"I'm sorry Shezz. It's the thunder. I thought I was getting over this…"

"It's okay, Billy. You were having a nightmare. And the storm made it worse. I forgot how scared you were of storms. It's better when he's with you, I expect."

"Yeah. Will you stay here till it's over? Talk to me?"

Dimmock has been woken by Billy's cries and has come out on to the landing to see what the disturbance is.

"Billy? Are you all right? I heard shouting…"

Sherlock steps out onto the landing.

"It's okay, Theo. He had a nightmare. And the storm's upsetting him. He's been afraid of thunder and lightning ever since I've known him. He has flashbacks about Greg now, too. I'll stay with him till it blows over. You go back to bed."

"I knew about the flashbacks. Didn't know about the storms. We never had any big storms when I lived with him. I get flashbacks of my own, now and then. But haven't got a specific trigger. We're all damaged, aren't we?"

Dimmock smiles tightly, turning away. Sherlock grabs his wrist.

"Theo. I am truly sorry for what happened to you. I didn't expect…"

"I know, Sherlock. I don't blame you any more. Goodnight."

He goes back to the guest room, where he has been sleeping on the sofa, leaving the bed to Frankie. He closes the door quietly, trying not to disturb the teenager, but Frankie is already awake.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

Frankie's pale eyes glow in the semi-darkness.

"It's all right, Frankie. Billy had a nightmare. He doesn't cope with storms well. Sherlock's keeping an eye on him. Are you okay?"

"Cold. I'm always cold, but it's keeping me awake."

Dimmock sighs, sensing danger.

"Do you want a cuddle?"

"Yes please"

Dimmock climbs into the bed, wrapping his arms around the teenager.

"You're so thin. And you're all legs. Settle down now."

"You blushed earlier. When I came downstairs. And you were looking at me all evening. And at Scotland Yard…"

"You're really pretty. But you're way too young for me even to be thinking about…anything."

"I'm seventeen. I'm legal. And obviously not a virgin."

"Stop it, Frankie."

"You want to though. I wouldn't say no."

"I'm saying no, Frankie".

"It's because I'm deformed, isn't it? Tits and no dick…"

"You're not deformed. You've been abused. And I'm not talking to you about your genitals. Go to sleep."

Dimmock lies in the dark, his arms around Frankie, whose soft, fine hair is getting up his nose and in his mouth with every breath.

He feels the teenager shift, turn towards him, and realises he is crying quietly. He strokes the blond hair.

"Frankie, love. It will be okay. He can't hurt you any more now. We won't leave you alone, I promise. I'll stay with you tonight."

He kisses the teenager's hair, holds him tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Theo. I lied to you. To everyone. I'm sorry…"

Frankie cries against Dimmock's shoulder.

"It's all right, Frankie. It's all right. You can sleep now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you were expecting Frankie to be trans. It isn't a cop-out. There are good reasons for him not to be.


	9. "You promised me dancing…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gala is attended. Dances are danced. Mayhem happens.

"You look really classy."

Frankie is dressed for the red carpet. He has spent half the day being primped and is beginning to feel a bit emotional and tearful. Only yesterday he had told Billy Wiggins that he was a boy, wanted to be a boy, and here he is, dressed as a girl again.

Anthea had turned up mid-morning with a team of beauty "technicians" who have turned him into a supermodel. His hair has been trimmed and fluffed, scars on his ankles and wrists have been hidden with collagen film, then leg makeup sprayed on so that he appears to have pale, bare legs, without any of the mottling or veins that real bare legs would have. He has been given a facial, then an expert make-up job; MAC cosmetics, expensive stuff, and his nails have been painted with Chanel Rouge Noir.

He has been given a pair of "boy pants"- silk shorts in a nude colour, which he is pleased about. He hadn't been looking forward to wearing skimpy knickers again. The Stella McCartney dress looks great, he has to admit. Nude silk, high necked, wide A-line style, with ruching on the hips, full at the very short hem, showing lots of thigh. Sparkly dark red louboutins complete the picture.

Billy walks up behind him as he looks in the mirror.

"Finishing touch."

Billy fastens a short string of garnet beads around Frankie's neck, and pushes a thin wire ring, threaded with dark red glass, onto the middle finger of his right hand.

"The beads are real garnets. The ring is sea glass. You can keep them both. And the shoes. But the dress has to go back tomorrow."

"Thank you. They're lovely. You look really nice, too."

Billy wears a French navy suit. Slubbed silk, narrow trousers and a Nehru-style jacket, with a white silk t-shirt underneath the jacket. His own blue sea glass rings are distributed on the fingers of his right hand. blue-black snakeskin boots complete his outfit.

"Okay, shoes off till we get outside."

Billy kicks his boots off, picks them up and takes Frankie's hand to lead him downstairs, where they are greeted with wolf whistles.

Logan is in full dress uniform, looking very smart. Mycroft is resplendent in a black three-piece suit and pale green shirt, with a darker green tie. Sherlock is his usual dandified self in a black suit and tight purple shirt, arguing with Mycroft over the necessity for a tie, and eventually putting on a black bow tie. Dimmock wears a pale grey suit and a white shirt, with a dark red tie. His jacket is loose-fitting, so as to hide the gun strapped under his armpit. He has scuffed up his normally conservatively-styled hair with gel, and feels a little uncomfortable. Mycroft's assistant, Anthea, will also be attending the gala, and wears a grey Victoria Beckham dress. She carries a small clutch bag, which conceals a pistol and her ever-present Blackberry. In the other hand, she holds a pair of black Jimmy Choos.

"You look fantastic, Frankie."

Dimmock is unhappy that he won't be Frankie's date for the gala, but has to admit that he looks great on Billy's arm.

"Thanks Theo. You look nice, too. You've done something different to your hair. It makes you look younger."

Dimmock blushes. Logan laughs.

"Be careful, Theo."

Dimmock blushes a bit more.

 

Two big black cars take them to the Guildhall. Mycroft takes the first, accompanied by Logan and Anthea. Billy, Sherlock, Dimmock and Frankie cram themselves into the second.

On arrival, the occupants of the first car sweep past waiting banks of photographers, only Logan being judged worthy of attention on account of being an award recipient. Mycroft and Anthea are very happy to be relegated to the ranks of the non-famous.

Billy gives the second car group a final briefing.

"Theo. When we pull up, get out and hold the door open. You need to look like an aide, or a minder, not a guest. Sherlock will go first, he'll get a lot of attention. Then Frankie and I will go. Follow a couple of yards behind us, but stay over by the ropes. We'll be in the middle of the carpet, and might have to talk to TV people. Stay out of shot. Frankie, they'll ask what you're wearing. Just say Stella McCartney. You won't have to talk to them other than that. Just smile a lot and hang on to my arm. I'll keep them busy. Well all meet up inside. Okay? Let's go."

Dimmock jumps out of the car, holding the door open for Sherlock, who saunters slowly up the red carpet towards the Guildhall steps. There is a barrage of flashes and shouts as paparazzi realise who he is. A well-known TV reporter steps in front of him, stopping his progress. Sherlock gives a brief interview, then stalks off, leaving the reporter to finish the interview segment by referring to him as the ' _enigmatic internet detective who faked his own death in order to bring a master criminal to justice_ '.

Billy and Frankie are next up on the carpet, with Dimmock trailing them like a fussy aide. He does it rather well, Billy thinks, looking just flustered enough to be convincing. There is another blaze of camera flashes. Billy answers questions about his recent nomination for the Nobel prize, _Mycroft pulling strings yet again_ , he thinks. He knows he won't win, but the nomination will look very good on his CV.

He makes a deliberate point of introducing Frankie by name.

"This is Frankie Knox. We're just good friends…"

The interviewer takes the opportunity to ask the question all female celebrities get asked.

"Frankie, can you tell our viewers who designed your dress?"

"It's a Stella McCartney"

Frankie smiles, keeps on smiling until he thinks his face will break. Keeps smiling and hangs on to Billy's arm for dear life as they are swept away along the red carpet and into the Guildhall.

*****

Frankie is a little lightheaded, and a little bored. He has drunk several glasses of champagne, and is feeling the alcohol. He has applauded Inspector Logan when he received his award, has danced a sort of waltz with Billy and a better one with Sherlock. He has chatted with Dimmock, in the way an "It Girl" would chat with a minder. He has eaten canapés with only a little trepidation, has chit-chatted with some fashion models in the ladies' cloakroom, admiring dresses, shoes and jewellery.

Speeches had been followed by formal dancing to a swing band, which in turn has given way to a famous deejay and a more relaxed dance floor. A few less inhibited dancers join Madonna vogueing. Whiffs of substances creep out from under lavatory doors, older guests leave and some of the younger ones begin to look glassy eyed, traces of powder on sleeves and noses. Bryan Ferry sings about rhododendrons.

"Dance with me, Billy. You promised me dancing. I've been good. Dance with me".

Billy sighs. He can dance pretty well, but much prefers to be creating the music.

"Okay. Come on"

He pulls Frankie into the edge of the crowd, and moves to the beat as the track changes to 'I like the way you move' and Frankie really lets himself go with the music, closing his eyes and swaying, arms above his head, hips moving sexily, moving further into the crowd on the dance floor.

Frankie doesn't notice the man in the security uniform approaching him until he grabs his wrist. He opens his eyes in shock, looking around for Billy, who he left somewhere on the edge of the crowd.

"Got you now, you little tart. That was a mistake, letting him say your name on telly. Didn't think you'd really get away from me, did you? Come on"

Tom Knox pulls Frankie, struggling and yelling, towards a door behind the stage. Far from the seats where Dimmock and Sherlock had been chatting. Far from anyone who can help him.

"Tom? No. Let go, Tom. I don't want to…"

"You'd rather be with fucking DOCTOR Wiggins? No, Frankie. He doesn't get to have you."

Frankie's eyes open wide in shock, then close in a fear reflex as Knox pulls a gun out of his belt and aims it at him, point blank. He feels an impact in his side and staggers, ears ringing as the gun goes off. Another impact at his shoulder forces him to the floor. He feels pressure in his ears as another shot rings out. There is no pain.  _No pain?_. Something heavy is weighing him down. What…?

He opens his eyes. Dimmock is kneeling over him, one hand pressed down on his shoulder, holding him down, as the other one shoves his gun back into its holster. Billy is crumpled on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his side. He screams, silently, as Sherlock and Lestrade ( _Lestrade?_ ) lift him into the recovery position and put pressure on the wound. Lestrade is crying, silently. Then Dimmock is holding Frankie tight, stroking his hair, helping him to stand, walking him to a waiting car which follows the ambulances carrying Billy and Knox.

*****

"So remind me, Mycroft. Which part of this little master plan had Billy getting a fucking great hole shot in him?"

Lestrade has been out of custody for a day and a half. No charges have been brought against him. He is white-hot with anger. That will soon be replaced with the icy chill of fear. The two states have been switching all night, not helped by the lack of news from the surgical team battling behind closed doors to keep Billy alive.

"We didn't expect Knox to attempt to shoot his brother…"

"Why not? The man's… was… a lunatic. We knew he had been happy to rape and generally abuse his brother. Killing him would be a logical extension…"

"We assumed he would try only to recapture Francis. I'm sorry, Gregor. Dr Wiggins put himself in harm's way to protect the boy. Inspector Dimmock's quick thinking ensured that no one else was harmed."

"I expect you to contain this, Mycroft. Dimmock's already suffered enough at Knox's hands. He's risked his career, carrying an unapproved weapon into that gala. And using it in sight of a bunch of civilians. Please do what you can to minimise his part in this business. Let me take the rap if you have to have a body holding a gun."

"Investigations will find that Detective Inspector Dimmock's gun did not fire the fatal bullet. That his finger was not on the trigger of the gun that did. He drew his gun only as a warning. A show of force. You will not be required to fall on your sword."

"Who…?"

"An unknown gunman. Or gunwoman. DNA will be indeterminate. The investigation into Knox's death will be short and closed quickly. You may investigate aspects of his life and crimes to whatever extent you wish."

"Thanks. I just wish I'd got there quicker. Stopped him before Billy…"

Lestrade's voice breaks, he whispers.

"Why don't they tell us something? It's been hours…"

*****

"Detective Chief Inspector Lestrade? A word, please."

A very tired-looking doctor beckons Lestrade from the hospital waiting room.

"Mr Lestrade. Dr Wiggins's condition is stable. There were several shattered ribs, damage to his liver and a rupture in his diaphragm. His right lung was punctured. Removing the rib splinters took a long time. We had to make sure that we got them all. Leaving any in would be very risky. The lung and diaphragm have been repaired, the damaged parts of the ribs have been replaced with titanium sponge struts. New bone will gradually grow. The liver is the biggest problem. Damage was extensive. Livers do regenerate over time, of course, but Dr Wiggins will need to be on medication for quite some time. His history with narcotics is a contra-indication for morphine as a pain relief. The normal alternative is fentanyl, which is also highly addictive. Dr Wiggins's medical notes carry a flagged instruction to use Paramorph, which we have done, but there is no research on how this very new drug might interact with a damaged liver…"

"He developed it, you know. He's been nominated for the Nobel prize for it. He'll look on it as a field trial, I bet. When can I see him?"

"He's being taken to the intensive care ward now. You can see him, but he is likely to be very sleepy, if not actually asleep, for several days. I don't recommend that anyone else should visit for a few days. As his primary contact, you can stay with him as long as you like, but be aware that he will be receiving intensive nursing. Please don't get in the way."

"Thank you"

*****

Frankie sits in the corner of the waiting room, eyes closed and shivering. No one has spoken to him or come near him since Dimmock had dumped him there hours ago. People have come in and out of the room, looking worried, angry, frightened. Lestrade has yelled and cried silently. ( _Silently?_ ) It slowly dawns on Frankie that Lestrade must be Billy's absent boyfriend, and even more slowly that there is something badly wrong with his ears. All he can hear is a roaring, whooshing sound, inside his head. Tears leak from under his closed eyelids and he shivers violently, freezing cold and feeling sick.

"Frankie. Frankie?"

He jumps as someone shakes him, opening his eyes and looking around, startled. Sherlock is shaking his shoulder, and is saying something he can't hear. He stares at the consulting detective's mouth, trying to make sense of what he is saying.

"Frankie. Can you hear me?"

Frankie just stares, shivering.

"Dimmock. Has anyone checked Frankie over? He seems to be in shock, and I don't think he can hear what I'm saying to him."

"I checked to make sure he wasn't injured…"

Dimmock is still shocked himself. He'd seen the gun in Knox's hand, had pulled out his own weapon and shot the man, but not been quick enough to prevent the former police sergeant from firing. Billy had been watching for, expecting, Knox to appear, had seen him grab Frankie, had pushed the teenager aside, taking the bullet that Knox had intended for his brother.

Dimmock had made sure that Frankie was transported to hospital, but in his own befuddled state, hadn't followed up to make sure that the young man was seen by medical staff.

"Mycroft. I need to get Frankie looked at. He doesn't seem to be able to hear anything… let Greg know I haven't just disappeared, will you? I expect he'll have to arrest me when he's got his head back together. I won't do a runner…"

"Don't be foolish, Theodore. No one will be arresting you. We will debrief properly later. I will arrange for someone to come and check Francis over. It should have been done immediately. We have all been shaken up, but that is little excuse."

*****

"They can't say whether it will be permanent or not. This is all my fault, Mycroft. I promised him he wouldn't get hurt…"

"If you had not fired, Knox might have taken a second shot. You did the right thing, Theodore . Let us hope it's temporary. "

Frankie has been seen by an otologist, who has confirmed severe hearing loss in both his ears, probably as a result of the noise of Dimmock's and Knox's weapons. The specialist has not been able to say whether the damage to Frankie's inner ears will be permanent, but has stated it as a possibility. Frankie has been treated for shock, and now hangs onto an iPhone that Anthea has given him for dear life.

The group has decamped from the waiting room and are now in residence in Frankie's private room, next door to Billy's, where he will be staying for a few days until his balance problems settle and his hearing is reassessed. Anthea has been asked to send him text messages relating to the general conversation around him, keeping him in the loop of conversation, and other members of the group send him individual questions and answers to his own questions. Dimmock is the only one who hasn't tried to talk to him, and he is surprised at how upset that makes him feel.

Dimmock is feeling thoroughly upset himself. He had let himself get too close to Frankie the night before. Had acted like a sulky boyfriend at the gala, staying away from the teenager on the dance floor. Worse, he had promised to keep Frankie safe, then hadn't noticed quickly enough that Knox had insinuated himself onto the security team, hadn't seen that Frankie was being dragged off the dance floor until he heard his shouts.

He'd killed the boy's brother.

He can't make himself regret that, not after what the man had done to him, to Frankie, and to Lestrade. But he feels sick- he's never shot at anything more than a firing range target before. He'd checked that Frankie hadn't been wounded, but hadn't followed up.

How could the kid trust him now? He'd pretty much made himself untrustworthy. He needed a cigarette. And to get drunk. And to stay away from Frankie, let someone more capable take care of the boy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dance tracks mentioned:
> 
> Madonna: Vogue: <http://youtu.be/GuJQSAiODqI>
> 
> Roxy Music: Do The Strand: <http://youtu.be/3MJQxvX5WvA>
> 
> Body Rockers: I Like The Way You Move: <http://youtu.be/0yNFDgfqvG8>


	10. Unstoppable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy Wiggins has been hurt and is in hospital. Lestrade and Dimmock talk about stuff.

***To: BW: Nobel prize nomination? !!!!!! LC***

***To: LC: Don't know how it happened. Won't win. BW***

***To: BW: Pretty girl… LC***

***To: LC: You saw us on telly. Sigh. Just friends, Liam. BW***

***To: BW: Boyfriend didn't go with you? LC***

***To: LC: He had to work. BW***

***To: BW: Fancy a pint? Or a coffee? LC***

***To: LC: Can't. I'm in hospital. I can have visitors day after tomorrow BW***

***To: BW: Sick? Accident? LC***

***To: LC: Accident. Tell you when I see you. Tired now. ZZZ BW***

 

****************************************************************************************************

From: BWigginsPhD@gmail.com

To: Group: GL; TD; JL MH; SH; FK

I'm all right. I can hear you all worrying. Stop it. Doc says I can have non-Greg visitors day after tomorrow. I need a phone charger. **_Billy_**

****************************************************************************************************

 

***To: TD: Look after Frankie. Take him home with you when he's discharged. I mean it. BW***

***To: MH: Make sure Theo takes Frankie home with him. BW***

***To: FK: Grab hold of Theo and don't let go. He'll look after you. BW***

***To: SH: Keep an eye on Theo and Frankie please. Keep me posted. BW***

***To: JL: Theo is the best person to look after Frankie. Trust me. He looked after me when Greg was hurt, so I know. He won't hurt him. BW***

***To: MH: Make sure Greg eats something. BW***

***To: A: Sorry I got blood on the dress.** **I know you called in a favour.** **Hope it won't make too much trouble for you. BW***

 

***************************************************************************************************

*From:BWigginsPhD@gmail.com 

To:Group: GL; TD; JL; MH; SH; FK

I'm turning my phone off now. Sleepy. Get messages to me via Greg. G'Night. **_Billy_**

**************************************************************************************************** -----

 

"Greg?"

Lestrade lifts his head from the edge of the hospital bed. He had sat awake most of the night, watching his lover's laboured breathing, feeling lonely and afraid. He had finally dozed off, head resting on the mattress next to Billy's hip. 

"Hello" 

He smiles at Billy.

"Back with us?"

"Yeah. Feel like I've been hit by a train. Is Frankie okay?"

"More or less. Dimmock took Knox out before he could fire again. Frankie's got percussive ear damage from the noise of the gunshots. Looks to be total and possibly permanent in the right ear, pretty bad in the left, but they think he might get some hearing back in that one. All he can hear is roaring in it at the moment. They're keeping him in for a couple of days. Poor little sod's really been through it. Dimmock's really upset. We're talking to Frankie via texts. Thank god for modern technology. Dimmock's panicking about his ability to look after him…"

"He's the best person for it. Frankie needs someone who knows some of what he's been through. Have you forgiven him?" 

"Yeah. He was scared for his life. With good reason. Can't blame him for what he did." 

"Can you find out whether he's got any relatives? I don't think he has, but we need to be on the safe side. He'll need a legal guardian till he's eighteen. I'd be happy to take on that responsibility."

"Are you sure? I thought maybe Jackie…"

"No. Jackie was Knox's boyfriend. There'll be awkwardness. I think next to me, Theo is the only other person, but Frankie's got a crush on him, maybe more than a crush. It wouldn't be appropriate. He'll make a great friend for him, but not a guardian."

"He's a bit young for Theo…"

"I can't believe you just said that. It sounds like you think I'm handing him over to be a sex toy. And anyway, since when did age make a difference? Frankie's old enough to give consent. If he wants to. And if Theo wants to. Theo started young, I know…"

"Too young. Fourteen, he told me…"

"So he knows what a very young man really needs. He won't brutalise him, Greg. He'll probably sleep on the sofa, anyway. He slept in the hammock on the boat. Till after you made it clear you didn't want me. He didn't rush things. He's gentle…"

"Yeah. And it's my fault you know that…"

"Water under bridges, Greg. You can't go back. 

Only forward."

*****

***To:TD Did you find anything at the Angel? BW***

***To:BW: Yes. Went out of my head, what with everything else. Well spotted. False wall to tattoo studio cellar. Access from tube tunnel. Signs of occupation. Lycra frock. Frankie's I think. Notebook. Ropes with bloodstains. Needles. Abandoned. We need to be sure there's no other gang members. I'll talk to Greg. TD***

***To: TD: Frankie will need clothes. There's some of mine still on the boat. He can have them until I get a bank account sorted for him. Then he can buy his own. BW***

***To: TD: Take Greg with you to pick them up. And pick up his bass. He'll want it at the new place. Then buy him dinner. Please. He needs to eat. BW***

***To: BW: I'm not sure I'm the right person to look after Frankie. TD***

***To: TD: Yes you are. No arguments. Trust me. BW**

 

Dimmock leans against his car, smoking, waiting for Lestrade. The man is taking an interminable amount of time. At last, he hears footsteps from the staircase.

"Greg? What took you so long?"

"I wasn't sure whether this was a good idea, T. Me and you being seen together off duty, and so soon after me being let out, I mean. What with the talk about me liking young blokes. There's so much scandal already…"

"Fuck the scandal. There's nothing in it anyway. Is there? Greg…?"

"No! Billy was my first… everything, really. But I know I probably don't respect personal space enough. I might get a bit too close…"

"You're a bit tactile. And you do that whispery thing, where you get your mouth up against someone's ear. Sometimes it's really menacing. I've seen villains pee themselves. Mind you, sometimes it's a bit…"

"Yeah. I can see how talk could start. Theo, I don't mean it to be a come-on."

"I know, Greg. Anyway, I've had orders from Billy, and I'm not up to fighting with him. I agree with him anyway. You need to rest and eat."

"Yeah. Okay. Let's go and get the stuff from the boat. You can bring me up to speed on the investigations."

Lestrade slides into the front seat of the DeLorean. Laughs.

"What on earth made you go for this ridiculous car ?"

"Mycroft lent it to me when I was minding Billy. He liked riding around in it. So do I, truth be told.It's fun. Not much boot space, though. He made me a gift of it after the business with John Watson. I think he felt guilty that Sherlock shafted me."

"You're friendly with Sherlock again though?"

"Yeah. He never expected Dr Watson to go that far either. It shook him up. I don't know if he sees him at all. Don't want to pry."

"Watson's getting married. To a woman he met while Sherlock was… dead. In August. I got an invitation, but I don't think I'll be going. Not sure why he's invited me, really. Its a bit weird. Him and Sherlock were all over each other in Scotland, and when we all came back to London. Don't understand it."

Dimmock shrugs.

"None of our business, I suppose."

He plugs his phone into the media dock and pulls up a tune.

"Hope you don't mind a bit of country. I heard this last night on an old CSI rerun. Made me think of you. All the things that have happened to you. Would have broken anyone else. You're unstoppable."

*****

"Jeans, t-shirts, pants, jumpers, pyjama trousers, socks. I'll need to get him some shoes. Billy's are too big. He can have that rose stuff Mycroft gave me as well. I couldn't use it."

"Unusual for Mycroft to get something wrong. He got me lime-scented stuff. It's really good. And Billy loves his violets…"

"Yeah. Well, I did like it, really, but going into the Yard smelling of roses…"

"Hmph. Worried about what people might think? I think you'll need to get over that, T. Especially ifyou're going to be living with Frankie."

"It's not that easy, Greg. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. He's so young…"

"I know, mate. It's not illegal though. He's got a bit of a crush on you. Try not to think of it as a permanent thing. Kids fall in and out of love all the time. 'Course, you might be lucky, like me…"

"Hmm. Billy said you should pick up your bass."

"Yeah. And my amp. Have you got room in that toy car?"

"On the back seat. The boot's ridiculous. We should drop your stuff off first. Have you actually seen your new place yet?"

"No. Billy wanted to surprise me. I'm happy on the boat, but he says it gets cold during  the winter…"

"Yeah. You've only lived on it in the warm weather. The toilet froze when I was staying with him. It wasn't funny, don't laugh."

"Sorry. Can't help it."

"You'll like the location of the new place. Might not like the decor…"

*****

"Oh. My. God."

Dimmock laughs.

"You hate it, don't you?"

"I like the kitchen. It's a good kitchen. I hate the furniture. Especially that."

Lestrade waves at the Le Corbusier chair.

"You haven't mentioned the floor…"

"God. The floor. He's not going to want to change the floor, is he?"

"I think he bought it for the kitchen. And the location. You might be able to get him to compromise on the floor."

Lestrade laughs

"What's so special about the location?"

"Go out on the terrace and have a look."

Lestrade opens the terrace doors, steps out and lights a cigarette. He walks to the railing and looks over.

"Bloody hell. This must have cost a fortune. Right next door to Borough Market. It's perfect. He bought this with me in mind. I'll live with the floor. But that white monstrosity's got to go."

"You've got a wet room…"

"I hope it's not blue."

*****

"So. How's the investigation going?"

Lestrade and Dimmock have eaten a good lunch in one of the restaurants in Borough Market, and are comfortably drinking very good coffee.

"We found Knox's bolt hole under the tattoo parlour. False wall, entrance via the northern line tunnel. Tip-off from Billy, interestingly. He was a bit miffed that when he turned up at the Yard with pictures, nobody had any idea who he was. Thinks you're ashamed of him. It was the day he was going out to Paris. He contacted me directly once he knew he was getting nowhere with the desk sergeant."

"I'm not ashamed of him. Why would he think that?"

"He thought you might have mentioned his name at the Yard, I suppose."

"I'm not out at the Yard…"

"Um. I think you might be the only one who believes that. Anyway. Knox had obviously been long gone. Probably got tipped off we were looking at the tattoo parlour and scarpered to Docklands, which is where Sherlock found Frankie. There was some stuff in the Angel basement. Some of those tarty clothes he dressed Frankie in, some bloody ropes, still being tested for DNA. Tattoo ink. Hypodermic needles…."

"Who tipped him off, do we know?"

"Still working on it. Someone from the Yard, obviously. Had to be an insider. Frankie mentioned "Knox's mate", who got him away from the Yard. He should be able to recognise him, but we haven't had time to go through mug shots yet. Billy told me Frankie had seen Dara Kerrigan, as well. He's not up to being questioned yet. I'm going in to visit him later. I'll see how he's holding up."

"Okay. Mycroft's looking at his people. Knox escaped from their custody twice, and from ours once. He shouldn't have been able to get away when Donovan took him in after he attacked you. He was reported dead in France, and that was Mycroft's lot. At least this time we've both physically seen him dead."

"Yeah. I don't know how to face Frankie, Greg. I killed his brother. And I'm responsible for his hearing damage. Billy seems to think everything's going to be sunshine and flowers. I'm not so sure it'll be that simple".

"Go and talk to him at least"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rascal Flatts: Unstoppable: <http://youtu.be/CSMNbnC9Kp8>


	11. Lost in the dazzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie figures out a way to talk to Dimmock.

Dimmock stands in the doorway of Frankie's hospital room. Frankie is engrossed in a game on his phone. Occasional pings announce text messages, which the young man reads and answers. Dimmock smiles. _If he can hear the text alert…._ No, of course he can't. The alerts come up on screen. 

He walks over and stands in front of Frankie, waiting for him to notice him. He doesn't want to touch him, to startle him. 

Frankie scowls as he fails the game level he is playing, scrubs his hand through his hair and looks up from the phone. 

"Theo. I thought you'd…"

"Done a runner? No. I had stuff to sort out. Needed to get you some clothes for when I take you home. Brought you these… bugger. You can't hear me, can you?"

He dumps the huge bunch of red roses he has bought into Frankie's lap, pulls out his phone, keys in a text message.

***To: FK: Had to pick up some clothes and stuff for you. TD***

***To: FK: How are you feeling? TD***

"I'm all right. Except I can't hear you…"

His voice breaks, and he sobs. 

"I want to get out of here. I don't like hospitals. _Where am I going to live_?"

His voice rises in pitch as he panics. 

"I haven't got any money. What am I going to do?"

Dimmock drops to his knees, gathers Frankie in his arms. Kisses his hair. Sits back on his heels and keys in another text.

***To: FK: This is going to be difficult to get used to. Let's hope it's not for too long. TD***

"They say I might get some hearing back in my left ear. The flowers are lovely. Thank you."

***To: FK: Would you like to come and stay with me? TD***

"Yes please. Can we go soon?"

***To: FK: Once the doctors clear you. Later today, I hope. Billy's lending you some of his clothes until you can get some of your own. TD***

"He's kind. I really like him."

***To: FK: Frankie. I live on my own. It will just be the two of us. Will you be okay with that? TD***

"Yes. Billy says you'll look after me, Theo."

***To: FK: Okay. TD***

*****

"I had a look at the new place. It's a bit flash…"

Lestrade scrubs his hands through his hair. 

"You don't like it…"

"It must have cost a fortune. Where did you get the money?"

"Licensing fees. For Paramorph. Mycroft got me some really good deals. I started thinking about getting somewhere last winter. The boat was too cold. I was hoping we'd get back together, that's why I picked Bermondsey. I thought you'd like to be near Borough. For the market…"

"I hate that white chair"

Billy laughs. 

"I hate it as well. We'll get rid of it. Do you still love me, Greg?"

"What? Where did that come from?"

"You haven't touched me. Or kissed me. Or told me…"

Lestrade moans. 

"Oh, god, Billy. You were so badly hurt. I was scared to touch you. I wanted to…"

He leans in and gently kisses his lover's mouth. 

"I love you, Billy Wiggins. Never doubt it."

*****

"I found a speech to text app. If you speak clearly, the phone will convert what you say into text notes. Can we try it?"

Frankie shows Dimmock the app on his own phone. Dimmock speaks into the phone. 

**_^Okay. I brought you sum clothes. Er. It doesn't spell everything write^_ **

Frankie laughs

"But I can understand what you're saying. And if I can't see your screen, you can send the notes as texts with one click. If you're close enough, my phone will pick up your voice. Quicker than typing out a lot of words. I'll send you a link so you can download it."

Dimmock smiles and nods. 

**_^I need to talk to Billy. Get changed and wait hear till I come back. I won't be long^_ **

"Okay."

Frankie grabs the bag of clothes that Dimmock has brought him and looks through them. 

A pair of those nice jersey pants that Billy had lent him the first night he'd met him. He smiles. Black jeans and a thin black leather belt. He will need to roll up the ankles, Billy is so tall.

Black socks. A cream long-sleeved vest and a loose dark red jumper that skims his hip bones. That will cover up his small breasts. He is self-conscious about them, can't wait for his new hormone regime to kick in so that they will shrink and he will have a normal teenage boy's chest. _Maybe my dick will grow a bit as well,_ he thinks.

No shoes. He will have to wear his louboutins. He doesn't mind, he really likes them, even if they do make him a lot taller than Dimmock. He slips into the ensuite and showers, using the rose-scented soap that was also in the bag. It smells lovely, like Dimmock's roses. He finger-combs his hair and fluffs it a bit, gets dressed, then puts on the necklace and ring Billy gave him. 

He settles down with his puzzle game to wait for Dimmock's return. 

Dimmock has only gone next door. 

"He can't wait to get out of here." 

Dimmock brushes his hair back off his forehead. Slightly flustered. 

Billy smiles. 

"Can't blame him for that." 

He hands Dimmock a folder.

"The paperworks's all done. Greg's gone to pick up his hormone prescription from the pharmacy. You've got his appointment cards in there. Pink for the ear specialist , yellow for the endocrinology clinic - that's for his hormones."

Billy smiles at Dimmock.

"He'll be a bit moody while his hormones are messed up. Try not to let it get to you, Theo."

"I'll do my best. I'm not really used to sharing my space. What's all the rest of this stuff?"

"There are prospectuses for five colleges - he'll need to pick somewhere to start his A Levels in September, and arrange for interviews. He should have been halfway through upper sixth now, but he'll have to start the year again, he's missed too much. His O level and first year Highers results are good. His certificates are in the blue envelope. There's a debit card for him and a PIN. It draws on the expense account you have a card for. He'll need spending money, money for clothes, an Oyster card. Give all of this to him, and maybe let him have a drawer or something that's his, to keep stuff in. Any major issues should be referred to me. I'm his legal guardian until he's eighteen. Mycroft sorted that out. You're not his bodyguard, Theo. He's just staying with you. He can't stay with Greg while I'm stuck in here. How are you managing to communicate with him?" 

"He's found an app on his phone that converts speech to text. I talk, he reads. It's a bit like subtitles I suppose. He talks to me, of course. If we're too far apart for his phone to pick up my voice, I text him. It's clumsy, but better than nothing. Have to make sure the phones are always charged. The phones will pick up other nearby voices as well, though. It might get a bit confusing, because he won't know who's saying what. We'll see how it goes. 

"Take him home. I'll get in touch with Mycroft, see if he'll lend us Anthea to take him shopping. He'll want more clothes. Make sure you show him how to use your cooker and media stuff, especially if you have to work late. He might prefer books to films, given his hearing problem. Just look after him, Theo. Don't be surprised if he's sexually precocious. He's been conditioned." 

"Okay. I'll go and get him. Take care and get well quickly, Billy." 

Dimmock goes back to Frankie's room. The teenager is playing a game on his phone again. His play is interrupted by a text alert, and he looks up. 

**_^Ready to go?^_ **

"Yes. But I've only got high heels. Is that okay? They make me look really tall…" 

**_^Thats okay. I don't mind feeling short. I went out with Billy. He's even taller than you with your heels on.^_ **

"Billy told me the bloke he lives with is his first boyfriend.…"

Frankie frowns. _Has Billy lied to him?_ If he lied about that, has he lied about anything else?

**_^Yes. He is. They were engaged but they split up for a while. That was when I went out with him. They're back together now.^_**

Frankie's worry recedes. He whispers. 

"Is his boyfriend Mr Lestrade?" 

**_^Yes.^_**

"You work with him, don't you?" 

**_^Yes. He's my boss, sort of. And my friend. Sounds weird, doesn't it? It's okay though. Circumstances were. Difficult. It was after your brother took a blade to him. He needed to know Billy was okay. Asked me to look after him.^_**

"Oh, god. It was _Tom_ who tried to…"

Frankie shudders. 

"How can I face him? After that, and what I said about him? He must hate me. But Billy's been kind. And he's my guardian. I don't understand, Theo." 

**_^Greg knows what your brother did to you. And why you said what you said. He doesn't blame you, Frankie.^_**

Frankie picks up the roses Dimmock has brought, and they both go next door to say a quick goodbye to Billy. Frankie holds the roses in front of him like a shield as he follows Dimmock out of the private room and along the corridor. 

"Hey, T. Wait up. I've got Frankie's prescription…" 

Lestrade trots along the corridor, catching up with them, putting a hand on Frankie's shoulder. Frankie jumps, dropping the roses. As he kneels to pick them up, he sees the person who grabbed him also bend to help. He looks up into Lestrade's soft brown eyes and bursts into tears. Lestrade grabs him in a bear hug, holding him against his chest as he cries. 

**_^Hey. None of that now. Sorry I grabbed you. Forgot you couldn't hear me. I've got your hormone prescription for you. Thought it would save time if I exercised a bit of police muscle. Are you okay?^_ **

Frankie nods. 

**_^ Good. Look after Theo, won't you? He doesn't get enough sleep. I'll try not to make him work too many unsocial hours. He's got about a million videos though, should keep you busy if he has to work late sometimes. I expect you know how to set subtitles and things up. You youngsters are good at tech stuff. I'll try and pop round to see you both once Billy's on the mend.^_ **

"Mr Lestrade…" 

**_^Greg, please^_ **

"Greg. I'm really sorry …" 

**_^ It's all right. I know you were forced into it. Let's be friends, eh?^_ **

Lestrade smiles. 

Frankie is lost in the dazzle. 

Dimmock sighs. He's seen _that_ look before. On Sherlock's face, and Billy's. And he knows that if he could see himself looking at Lestrade he would see the same look on his own face. Lestrade is easy to love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how well voice to text apps would work, but I suspect it wouldn't be as easy as I am making it seem.


	12. "It's not what it looks like…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimmock sleeps on the sofa. Frankie doesn't want him to…

Dimmock wakes with a jolt. He has been dreaming that Frankie's hands are stroking him, that he has an erection, that Frankie is whispering to him…

"Theo, I need you. I don't want to be on my own. I need you. Please. Please…"

It wasn't a dream. Frankie is really there. He turns towards the teenager, strokes his hair, kisses his cheek. He seems so desperate…

Dimmock slides off the sofa to sit next to Frankie. The floor is cool, but not cold. Frankie is shivering from something else. 

**_^You should try to sleep.^_ **

"I can't. I'm lonely. Come upstairs?"

**_^Frankie. You know what could happen if I do.^_ **

"Aye. I told you that first night I wouldn't say no…"

Dimmock sits beside him. He strokes Frankie's shoulders and back gently, the thin t-shirt is not much of a barrier. He slides his hands over the young mans hips, strokes the outside of his thighs, working up again until he can gently brush his fingers across Frankie's buttocks with one hand. He slides his hand under the waistband of his pyjama trousers, and Frankie explodes, flinging out his arms to push him off, catching him across the face with his knuckles, squirming away from him across the room, rolling into a ball and sobbing. Dimmock swears.

"What the fuck, Frankie? You asked me to…"

He realises that Frankie can't hear him.

"I'm sorry, Theo. I thought I'd be able to…. I NEED to. I'm aching inside. You could cuff me…"

Dimmock sucks in a breath through his teeth. Finds Frankie's phone where it has been kicked under the sofa, retrieves it, dropping it next to the young man. 

**_^I'm not tying you down or cuffing you. You were all right till I …What happened?^_ **

"It's just… Tom always cuffed my hands. And my ankles. He liked me to fight. To hit me when I did. I know you wouldn't hit me…I'm sorry. I'm hurting, Theo. I need to be fucked. What am I going to do?"

Frankie's voice has been rising, he is breathing fast, on the verge of hysterics. Dimmock doesn't know what to do. 

**_^Can I cuddle you for a minute? While we think?^_ **

Frankie slides over next to Dimmock, who turns so he can put his arms around the young man. 

**_^Frankie, I want you to enjoy sex with me, if we have it. ^_ **

Frankie buries his face in Dimmocks shoulder. 

"I've never enjoyed it. I always hated it. But I need it…"

Dimmock strokes his hair. 

**_^Do you masturbate, Frankie? Play with yourself?^_ **

"Tom kept my hands cuffed. I used to before… . But that's not what I need…"

Dimmock understands perfectly. Frankie wants to be penetrated. He also feels pretty certain that Frankie will fight him again if he tries. 

**_^ Do you ever stick your fingers up there?^_ **

"That sounds dirty. Do people do that?"

**_^I do, sometimes, if I'm on my own and feeling horny. It helps.^_ **

"You're feeling horny now. I can see…"

**_^Yes. But I'd rather be fucked than do the fucking, to be honest.^_ **

"I can't do that."

Dimmock huffs out a little sigh. 

**_^I know, and I'm not asking you to. You should go back to bed. Come on.^_ **

Dimmock stands and holds out his hand. Frankie takes it and they go upstairs. 

**_^ I need the bathroom^_ **

"Are you going to…"

**_^Probably^_ **

"Can I watch?"

**_^No. Not tonight. It's too soon.^_ **

Dimmock feels a bit freaked out. The thought of Frankie watching him finger himself has really turned him on. He is not sure if he likes that. It is hard to think of Frankie as a young man and not an abused boy. 

**_^If you try it, make sure you use lubricant. It'll make it easier and stop you getting sore. There's some in the bathroom cabinet.^_ **

In the end, they each make separate use of the bathroom. 

Dimmock goes first. All the talking about sex has made him want it, badly. He wanks, hand around his cock, three fingers up his arse, surprising himself by thinking of Lestrade as he comes. Where did _that_ come from? 

He doesn't know what Frankie does in the bathroom, but he hears moans and gasps, which make him half hard again. He climbs into bed. He would just feel stupid going back downstairs to sleep on the couch now. 

Frankie is sleepy when he eventually climbs into bed beside Dimmock. He smells of rose soap. 

**_^All right?^_ **

"Aye. Thanks for not hurting me."

**_^ When you go shopping with Anthea tomorrow, get her to take you to Ann Summers. Get a vibrator. It will help you. ^_ **

"Theo. How can I stop myself fighting you?"

**_^We'll work on it. A little bit at a time. Cuddles and sleep now, though, eh?^_ **

*****

***To:TD: Morning. Gregson won't give me access to either of the Knox case files. Thought I'd come and have a chat with you about them. GL***

***To: TD: I'm downstairs. Put the kettle on? Anthea's here too. She's not talking to me. Let us in? GL***

***To: GL: Okay. Be right there TD***

Dimmock looks across the bed at Frankie, who is fast asleep. He thinks for a moment, sends a text message. The phone's vibration should wake him.

***To: FK: Morning Frankie. Anthea is here to take you shopping. See you downstairs in a minute? TD***

Dimmock gets up, scuffs his hands through his hair, trots downstairs to let Lestrade and Anthea in. 

"Morning, Greg"

"Morning T. Bloody hell, what happened to you?"

Dimmock has no idea what Lestrade is talking about. 

"What?"

"Um. Didn't think you had villains to chase last night…"

"I didn't. I've been here. What are you on about?"

"Looked in the mirror yet this morning?"

"No…. Wait. Put the kettle on while I see if Frankie's awake"

Dimmock runs upstairs to the bathroom. Looks in the mirror. He has to admit, it does look as if he's been in a fight. He has a cut in his eyebrow and the beginnings of a black eye. _How?_

"Frankie"

He remembers last night. Frankie had lashed out unthinkingly. Dimmock carries the evidence on his face. He moans. 

"Morning, Theo. Oh, your poor face. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Dimmock turns. Kisses Frankie's cheek. Notices he has his phone in his hand. 

**_^It's all right. I know you couldn't help it. Greg and Anthea are downstairs. Get dressed and come down for coffee. I'll see you in a minute.^_ **

He pulls on jeans and a jumper and goes downstairs. 

"Frankie will be down shortly, Anthea"

Mycroft's aide smiles briefly, then goes back to her ubiquitous blackberry. 

"Greg. It wasn't a fight. I'll explain later."

Frankie appears, wearing the same clothes as the previous day. He really does need to buy some new ones. Anthea reaches into her shoulder bag and pulls out a pair of black converse, which she hands to Frankie with a smile. 

**_^These will be more comfortable than heels for walking round the market in^_ **

"Thank you."

Frankie smiles, then notices Lestrade looking at him closely and blushes. 

"Hello Greg."

**_^Hello Frankie. Sleep well?^_ **

"Aye. Thanks"

He smiles shyly at the DCI. 

"Anthea. Can we go now? I don't want coffee. I'll see you later, Theo."

Frankie and Anthea leave for their shopping trip, leaving Lestrade and Dimmock to look over Dimmock's case notes. Lestrade makes coffee, hands a mug to Dimmock then stands squarely in front of him, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's not what it looks like, Greg"

"Well. What it looks like is that Frankie battered you. He didn't look to be marked at all. Looked a bit blushy. So how'd you get the eye?"

"He begged me to fuck him. Really begged, Greg. I wanted to take it slowly, be gentle with him. He let me touch him, stroke him. You know. Until I put my hand under his waistband, then he lost it, pushed me away, caught me one in the eye. He was wearing that ring Billy gave him. He was really upset. Still wanted it. Suggested I should cuff him, like his brother used to. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't going to cuff him. I explained to him how to finger himself. Told him to get Anthea to take him to Ann Summers, get a vibrator. I think that will help him. He needs to explore his own body."

"Billy was touchy like that in the beginning. Not quite as extreme, maybe. Keep doing what you're doing, T. Let him lead. It will be okay."

"I hope so."


	13. Danger day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone remembers Billy's birthday. Well, nearly everyone.

"Got to go, love. Early briefing. See you tonight"

Lestrade kisses Billy's ear and trots downstairs, letting himself out quietly.  
Billy sighs, turns over and goes back to sleep. It is too early to get up. He is wakened an hour or so later by his phone pinging. 

***To: BW: Happy birthday Bill. Twenty five? LC***

Billy laughs. The man is a charmer. 

***To: LC: Twenty seven. Thanks Liam. BW***

Billy stretches and gets up. Showers and dresses, thinking about how to spend the day. The weather forecast promises heat with possible thunderstorms later in the afternoon, brightening again towards late evening. 

He wants to be safe inside somewhere soundproofed during the afternoon. 

Lestrade's _'see you tonight'_ carried an implication that he would be busy all day. Billy sighs. He had hoped to spend at least part of his birthday with his, what? Boyfriend? Lover? Partner? He isn't sure what Lestrade is now, truth be told. 

He goes down to the kitchen, looks around. No card from Lestrade. 

He walks downstairs to the mailboxes set into the outer wall of the old warehouse building, picks up the post. Bills and junk mail. A letter from the otology clinic confirming an appointment for Frankie in two days time. A jokey card from Liam. A pale blue envelope postmarked St Andrews, a card from Logan. At least one policeman he knows has remembered his birthday. 

A heavy cream envelope, addressed to Dr Wiggins, no postmark, hand delivered. His heart lifts. Then sinks a little. _'Best wishes, Mycroft'_. There is something else in the envelope. Festival passes and wristbands. VIP. 'Access all areas'. Brilliant, he thinks. He's never been to a proper rock festival. 

He trots back upstairs, makes coffee, stands his three cards on top of the bookcase. Sighs. Lestrade hasn't remembered his birthday. 

Billy puts an onion bagel in the toaster, looks in the fridge for cream cheese. Thinks again about what to do for the rest of the day. He is interrupted by banging on the door. A definite copper's knock, he thinks, crossing the expanse of blue floor to open the door. 

"Happy birthday, Billy"

Dimmock thrusts an enormous bunch of flowers, deep blue cornflowers and bright yellow peonies, into Billy's arms, kisses him on the cheek and stalks over to the kitchen, pouring two more cups of coffee from the DeLonghi machine and dropping a card on the table. 

"Happy birthday!"

Frankie stands shyly in the doorway, holding a brightly wrapped parcel and another card. He hands them both to Billy. 

**_^Hi Frankie, Hi Theo. Thanks. I wasn't expecting anything.^_ **

Billy smiles, opening the cards and putting them up next to Logan's and Mycroft's . He turns his attention to the flowers, standing them in the sink while he opens the parcel. Boots. Soft leather, black. Pointed toes, elegant. He lifts one out of the box. It will come to mid-calf. Very nice. He notices the heels, smiles. Only two inches or so, but definite stilettos. 

**_^ These are lovely, Frankie. Where did you find them?^_ **

"Covent Garden. They're dancer's boots. I knew you'd like them. See, Theo?"

Frankie laughs. Dimmock gives a sheepish smile. 

**_^Yeah. All right^_ **

Billy turns to Dimmock. 

"You not busy this morning, then?"

"No. It's all quiet today. For a change. I left Greg trying to deal with Anderson. Sherlock's upset him again. They were going through forensics reports when I left. I'm dropping Frankie off at his music therapy group. Thought we'd pop in here on the way."

" I thought Greg had a briefing this morning…"

"Not that I know of…"

Dimmock notices Billy's expression, realises he must have just put his big policeman's foot firmly in his mouth. 

"Course, he's senior to me. Maybe something the Super needed to see him about…"

"Yeah. Maybe". 

"Is this all your cards, Billy?"

Frankie is looking round, curious

**_^Yeah. I was surprised to get one from Jackie. I expect Mycroft told him. Mycroft's given me weekend passes for the Leeds festival. You'll come, won't you? You should be cleared by the clinic by then. Your letter came this morning. You go in day after tomorrow.^_ **

"Brilliant. I can't wait. For the clinic and the festival."

Frankie lowers his voice

"Didn't you get a card from Greg?"

**_^No. I don't expect he remembered. He's really busy…^_ **

Except that he wasn't. Theo had let that slip by accident. He'd just not remembered. 

Billy shakes his shoulders. Finds a vase for Theo's flowers and stands them in the centre of the new grey-washed farmhouse table he has bought to replace the horrible round white one that had been in the loft apartment when he had bought it. 

The yellow of the peonies pops against the blue of the floor and the muted greys of the furniture. The white Le Corbusier chaise has gone, replaced by two squashy grey leather sofas, one pale dove, one battleship. Billy has kept the two Louis Ghost dining chairs, and has mismatched them with half a dozen old galvanised cafe chairs, in several different styles. The apartment is beginning to feel more like home. 

**_^ So. What are your plans for the day, Billy? Can I give you a lift anywhere?^_ **

Dimmock speaks into Frankie's phone, so that he is included in the conversation. 

**_^ I haven't decided, really. Maybe some shopping. Might see if I can get a return for a matinee or something this afternoon. The weather forecast says thundery showers late afternoon. I want to be inside somewhere I won't hear the thunder…don't know about this evening. Greg'll be late, I expect. He has been all week. Might go to the Head in Camden. Get scampi in a basket, there's open-mic comedy….Yeah. I'll see what's on at the Little Angel. Puppets. That's probably a bit out of your way, Theo…^_ **

**_^ Not too far out. We'll need to leave pretty soon, though. Don't want Frankie to be late…^_ **

**_^Okay. Let me just brush my hair and get a jumper. Five minutes?^_ **

He dashes upstairs, grabs a thin cotton sweater, scrubs his hands through his hair, trots down to the living room, stopping briefly at the front door to pull on his birthday boots. Three minutes. 

They drop Frankie off at his music therapy group, and carry on towards Camden. Dimmock worries as he drives. Billy is speaking far too brightly about his plans for the rest of the day. Last time he'd been that bright was when he was high, after the kidnapping earlier in the year. He sneaks a look at Billy's eyes. Normal dilation, so not high, but definitely troubled. 

Camden is Billy's old manor. He knows all the dealers well, would easily be able to pick up a needleful of his weapon of choice. Or several needlesful. It also sounds like he might not be planning to go home tonight. 

"Fancy a coffee?"

"No. It's okay Theo. Don't want to keep you from your work. Just drop me off here. I'm going to look in Camden Passage. See if there's anything I fancy for the loft."

Dimmock pulls the car into the kerb. 

"I'm not busy today, Billy. I could keep you company…"

"No. I'm okay, Theo. I don't need babysitting. Oh. You think I'm going to… I'm not stupid, Theo. I'm not planning to get high. Go back to work. Maybe you can persuade Greg to go home before midnight for once. Thanks for the flowers. They're lovely. "

Billy opens the door and gets out, disappearing into the crowds of shoppers and tourists. Dimmock sighs. Starts the car to drive back to the Yard. Someone needs to tell Lestrade how unhappy Billy is today. Why hasn't the stupid bastard at least given him a card?

Billy is well aware that today is a 'danger day' for him. He has a strategy in mind for dealing with the danger. 

*****

"That's brilliant. Thanks for letting me bump the queue". 

" You're a valued customer, Bill. You heard about Marco, I suppose?"

"Yeah. Bad business, that. How are you managing?"

"It's okay. We lost a few clients. Surprised you came back, actually. You were one of his favourites. I'm sorry I couldn't do the same type of job for you. There aren't many who can gauge pain like he could. We miss him, you know."

"Yeah. I might not have any more after this one. Don't want to spoil the aesthetics of my body…"

He laughs. 

"Let me know if you want more flash drawn. I can do that for you at least."

"Thanks Bill. I'll see you around, maybe."

*****

 

Billy sits outside Starbucks, nursing a latte. He has loaded it up with sugar, and feels the sweet caffeine burst lifting his mood. The new tattoo helps, too, even if he hadn't got his usual Marco-induced fix of pain. He feels a pang of regret at Marco's loss. He had been one of the few people who had been good to him in his squatting days. He is at a bit of a loose end. He had expected to have to wait longer for his ink. Now he has an hour or so to spare. _Should have taken Theo up on his offer_ , he thinks. 

***To: LC: Busy? BW***

***To: BW: Yes. Running tests on some kit. Why? LC***

***To: LC: Thought you might fancy lunch. BW***

***To: BW: Can't today. Really can't leave this. You know how it is. Boyfriend too busy? LC***

***To: LC: Yeah. He always is. How about later on? Pie and a pint? BW***

***To: BW: I really can't. Got something important on tonight. How about tomorrow? LC***

***To: LC: Okay. Don't work too hard. BW***

Billy's mood starts to sink again. He is still twitchy. He checks the weather forecast on his phone. Stormy weather on the way. 

His phone pings. Email. 

****************************************************************************************************  
From: SHolmesConsultingDetective@gmail.com  
To: BWigginsPhD@gmail.com  
Attachment: **_audiofile Billysbirthday_**

Happy birthday Billy. You know I don't see the point of cards, but I thought you would like this. The drummer is Frankie. **_SH_**

****************************************************************************************************  
Billy touches the link. A violin solo, very modern, with a compelling drumbeat. His eyes fill with tears. Everyone is busy, but at least they have all remembered his birthday. All except the most important person in his life. 

***To: SH: Thanks Sherlock. It's lovely. BW***

He finishes his coffee, strolls along to the Little Angel Theatre. It is beginning to rain. 

*****

"Hi, T. All set for later?"

Lestrade is locking up his car when Dimmock pulls into the car park at the Yard. The two detectives walk across to the stairs together. 

"Yeah. I left Frankie with Sherlock, recording something. His drumming's coming along really well isn't it? Wish I was more musical. Mouth organ doesn't quite cut it next to you lot…"

"Wait, T, you play mouth organ? Why have you never mentioned this? How good are you?"

"Not bad, I suppose… look, Greg, Frankie wanted to drop his present for Billy off this morning. He was a bit flaky…"

"Frankie?"

"No, Billy. A bit too bright, you know. Craving something, I think. Pretty badly. Um, I might have put my foot in it. He was surprised to see me, and I told him we were a bit short on major crime this week. He didn't call me on it, but he's not stupid. He was getting ready to go out, so I offered him a lift. He's planning to spend the day in Camden, Greg."

"That's good. I'll be able to get things set up while he's out. Won't need to find an excuse to get him out of the way…"

"He said he might drop into the Head for the open mic comedy tonight. Thats a late finisher, Greg. I think you might have fucked up. He'd put his birthday cards out. Frankie asked him where yours was…"

Lestrade feels in his pockets for cigarettes. Curses when he pulls an envelope from his pocket. _Billy's card_. He'd forgotten to leave it at home this morning. No wonder Billy was pissed off. 

"Fuck. He thinks I've forgotten…"

"Yeah. Billy told Frankie you'd probably been too busy…Told me to try to persuade you to go home before midnight for once this week. "

"Fuck. He must be pissed off. I can't have him staying out late tonight. I'll drop by the Head myself a bit later and bring him back. You can keep things ticking over, can't you?"

"Yeah. Just hope he's not found something to help with his craving in the meantime. He knows everyone in Camden…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's birthday music for Billy: Sushane Shankar: The Queen Of The Damned: [http:youtu.be/bO4Y0Y5cRBE](http://youtu.be/bO4Y0Y5cRBE)


	14. Carpe Diem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade rescues Billy from the storm. Or something.

Huge drops of rain fall on the hot pavement, evaporating as they land. Billy quickens his pace as he walks away from the Little Angel theatre. The matinee had been fully booked, and he hadn't been able to get in. The sky to the west is darkening, and there is a chilly breeze starting up. Billy shivers as a very faint echo of thunder rolls over him. He ducks into the tube station at the Angel, runs down to the platform and jumps on a train to Camden Town.

Billy exits the tube station, straight into a downpour. He hasn't brought a jacket, and is quickly soaked through. The sky is darkening overhead as he runs towards Camden Lock, turning his ankle with a crack as his stiletto heel slips on the wet pavement.

He runs awkwardly, the ankle pulsing with pain at every step. By the time he gets to the SeaGlass he is whimpering in pain and fear as thunder and lightning crash around him.

He fumbles with keys, letting himself in and rushing to close all the shutters. He grabs the sheepskin from the bed and throws it on the sofa in the living room, away from the wall of window in the bedroom, wincing as he catches his clingfilm-wrapped wrist against the door frame.

He scrabbles in the kitchen for the bottle of vodka he knows he left behind when he moved into the loft apartment, then climbs onto the sofa, wraps himself in the sheepskin, puts earbuds into his ears and turns his phone volume up high. He selects his metal playlist, laughs hysterically as the first song plays. A cello version of 'Thunderstruck'. Slugging the vodka, he tries to drown out the storm.

*****

The first shock of thunder shakes the glass walls of Lestrade's office. It is followed by sheet lightning, then a few seconds later another loud clap of thunder.

"Fuck. That's loud. Oh, God. Billy's on his own, and twitchy. Where did you say he was going, T?"

"Little Angel Theatre, then Camden Head later. Don't know about in between. Greg, he didn't have a ticket for the play. He was going to try for a return…"

Lestrade is already phoning. The call rings out. He texts.

***To: BW: Billy, where are you? GL***

No reply. Greg groans.

"Everything's more or less sorted. Can I trust you to finish off for me, T? I've got to go and find him."

"Yes. Go."

Lestrade dials a number he only uses in dire emergencies.

_"I'm putting you through now, sir"_

_"How can I help you, Gregor?"_

"Mycroft, Billy's out in this storm on his own. Islington area. Dimmock left him at the Angel just before lunchtime. He's twitchy, according to Dimmock, and pissed off with me. Not answering his phone. Can you track him for me? I need to find him. He might do something stupid and it'll be my fault if he does."

_"I'll put someone on it and get back to you. Calm yourself, Gregor."_

Lestrade sweeps files into neatish piles on his desk while he waits.

_*Ping*_

***To: GL: We tracked him to the tube at the Angel. He used his Oyster card, so he is on the underground.MH***

Lestrade runs down the stairs to the car park. Fumbles for car keys, dropping them on the concrete floor. He retrieves them, climbs into his car, starts the engine. Waits a few minutes.

_*Ping*_

***To: GL: His Oyster card was just used again at Camden Town, and we've picked his phone up moving towards Camden Lock. Gregor, he could be heading for the boat.MH***

***To: MH: Thanks Mycroft. On my way there. GL***

Lestrade drives towards Camden. A journey that should take fifteen minutes on a good day. Today is not a good day. Visibility is poor, traffic is slow. Lestrade curses at pedestrians, curses at other drivers, curses at cyclists. Curses at himself.

Twenty five minutes later he pulls up at Camden Lock, parks messily, putting his police ID sticker prominently on the windscreen. He dashes through the downpour to the SeaGlass, slipping on the gangway, catching the rope handhold to stop himself sliding off into the canal, slipping on the steps and banging his head on the doorframe. At least the thunder is receding. The storm is starting to blow itself out.

Billy is in a heap of sheepskin on the sofa, eyes closed and whimpering. Lestrade takes about half a second to cross the living room and gather him into his arms. Billy fights him, smacking the side of his face where he already has a graze from the doorway, opening it up into a cut. Blood drips onto the off-white sheepskin. Lestrade ignores it, catching Billy's hands, wrapping his arms tightly around the panicked man, whispering calming words.

"It's okay, Billy. Shush now, shush…"

"Mister Lestrade?"

"Yeah. It's me. You're safe."

"I feel sick…"

Lestrade pulls Billy up from the couch, hauls him to the bathroom, holds his head while he vomits. Strokes his hair while he cries.

"What's wrong love?"

"My ankle hurts. And my wrist. I might have had a drink…"

"I can smell it on you. How much have you had? Have you eaten?"

Billy shakes his head, groans.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I couldn't find it…"

"Are you going to be sick again?"

"Don't think so. Hope not. Can I have some water?"

Lestrade picks Billy up, carries him back to the sofa, finds bottled water under the sink, brings it back to the young man. Settles himself beside him, finds Billy's phone pushed down the side of the cushion.

"Let's have a look at you. The _fuck_ have you got on your feet?"

Billy giggles.

"Frankie's present. I really like them. Comfortable. Heels are slippy in the wet. I was running. I turned my ankle. Might have broken it".

"That's not funny…. How much have you had to drink?"

Lestrade pokes around in the sheepskin, finding the half-empty bottle of vodka.

"Was this a new bottle? No wonder you were sick. Let's get this boot off and have a look at your ankle."

He gently tugs at the boot, wincing in sympathy as Billy groans. The boot finally comes free, exposing a bruised and swollen ankle. He turns it gently, flexing the joint. Billy whimpers.

"I don't think it's broken. I'll strap it up for you. If it's still bad tomorrow I'll take you to the hospital."

He fetches the first aid kit from the bathroom, finds a bandage and straps up the ankle.

"There. That'll support it a bit. Let's have a look at your wrist. Did you fall on it?"

"No…"

"Ah, Billy. More ink? Let me see"

He peels off the cling film, turns Billy's wrist gently. A single line of text.

## **Carpe Diem**

"Seize the day?"

"Wanted a needle. Got this instead. Marco wasn't there any more, but wrists hurt anyway. Bones…what happened to you? Your poor face. Did I hit you? I'm sorry, Mister Lestrade. "

"I slipped on the steps and banged it on the door. You might have caught it again when I grabbed you. I shouldn't have grabbed you…Why were you out in a storm?"

"Thought I'd be indoors, in the theatre. But I didn't have a ticket, and it started raining, so I came here. Should have let Theo keep me company. He offered… I wanted you to stay home today, but you were busy…"

"I found this still in my pocket when I was looking for cigarettes. I meant to leave it for you to find this morning. I didn't forget your birthday, love. How could I?"

Lestrade hands the crumpled envelope to Billy, who opens it and smiles tearily at the words written on the card.

"It's lovely. Romantic. You're a bit of a softy, aren't you, Mister Lestrade?"

Lestrade sighs. _*Mr Lestrade*_.

"Yeah. Come here."

Billy shuffles over to the detective, snuggling into his side, nuzzling his neck.

"I feel better for you being here anyway. I always feel safe with you. Let's stay here. Cuddles are nice. Feel a bit sleepy…"

"Are you hungry, Billy?"

Billy giggles. He is more than slightly drunk.

"Starving. Could eat a horse. Two horses. Theo and Frankie interrupted me when I was toasting my bagel this morning. I didn't get a chance to eat it…"

"You've not had anything at all, all day? Not surprising you're a bit woozy. Come on. I need to get you home and feed you".

He lifts Billy in his strong arms, carries him out to the car and tucks him into the front passenger seat, trots back to pick up Billy's phone and boot, and make sure everything is switched off and locked up. Climbs into the car and drives to Bermondsey, Billy dozing in the seat beside him.

*****

"T, can you make a quick cheese sandwich for Billy? He needs to eat something."

Lestrade had carried Billy from the car into the warehouse building, taken the lift, pushing down his own panic. Six floors worth of stairs carrying six foot four of dead weight is too much even for him.

He had trotted straight through the living room and up the stairs to the bedroom. Billy had stirred, but not fully woken all the way home. Lestrade gently places him on the bed, pulling off his other boot. Dimmock knocks quietly on the door.

"Sandwich, Greg. Is he okay?"

"Yeah. Half a bottle of vodka okay. And a badly twisted ankle. And a new tattoo."

"Christ, Greg. I should have stuck with him. I'm sorry…"

"Not your fault, T. All mine. I'm going to let him sleep for a while, then try to sober him up. We might have to start without him. You okay down there?"

"Yeah. Just finishing off. Then I'll shoot off to pick up Frankie. You've got a couple of hours before anyone gets here. See you later."

Lestrade settles down against the headboard of the big bed, puts the plate with the sandwich next to Billy on the bedside table, pulls out his phone and checks his emails, looks at Twitter for a while, plays a couple of games of Words with Friends. Donovan is soundly beating him. She has a serious knowledge of obscure and rude words. He sets an alarm, puts the phone down, scoots down the bed and puts his arms round Billy. Falls asleep.

*****

Lestrade's alarm pings. He stretches and looks at Billy, who is awake and eating his sandwich.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thanks Mister Lestrade. I was starving. Are you all right? You look worn out".

"I'm okay. Give me a hug?"

Billy puts his plate down, snuggles down against Lestrade's side.

"I'm sorry I worried you. I was a bit pissed off. I should have known you wouldn't forget."

Billy nuzzles Lestrade's neck, kisses his ear, making the detective shiver.

"Billy, I was going to ask this later, but I think now is better. Will you wear my diamond again?"

"I've already been there, got that t-shirt, Mister Lestrade. Ended up not fitting me, didn't it?"

Lestrade groans, tears prickling his eyes.

"Please Billy. I was so stupid. I never want to be apart from you again. Please…"

"Why? We're okay, aren't we? I'm happy living with you…"

"I want everyone to know. I want to show everyone how much I love you. I want to marry you. On September 23rd at St Martins. Three o'clock."

"That's very specific…"

"That's what I've been doing all week. Sorting stuff out…"

"What will you do if I say no?"

"Wait till 3 o'clock on September 23rd, then send the guests home."

"You'd carry on hoping? Would you ask me again?"

"Every day, Billy. Every day. Will you marry me?"

"I don't know. Being engaged didn't work out before…"

"Please Billy. I need to be married to you…"

Lestrade is becoming distraught. Billy can't bear to see him hurt.

"All right. You've got your ring on the wrong finger."

Lestrade looks at the ring Billy had given him. He had switched it to his right hand, hadn't wanted to stop wearing it.

"Put it on the proper one for me?"

Billy pulls the ring off, replaces it on the third finger of Lestrade's left hand. Holds his own hand out so that Lestrade can slip his yellow diamond ring onto the same finger of Billy's left hand.

"I've still got my tiara…"

Lestrade sags with relief. Pulls the young man into a hug.

"I love you, Billy Wiggins. Now, do you feel up to getting dressed in something pretty for me? I've got a surprise for you."

"Is it a party? It is, isn't it? You daft git."

"Yeah. It was meant to be a surprise. I was going to do the full down-on-one-knee thing. Fucked that up as well, didn't I?"

"This was better. And I'm not really very good with surprises…"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy's storm music
> 
> Two Cellos: Thunderstruck:[http:youtube.com/watch?v=uT3SBzmDxGk&sns=em](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT3SBzmDxGk&sns=em)


	15. He said yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and Billy try again…

"You look fantastic. Come here."

Lestrade pulls Billy into a bear hug, which morphs into a slow, romantic smooch. 

Billy has dressed to kill, in dark red skintight jeans and a cream vintage lace-trimmed grandad vest. Tiny pearl buttons at the neck are half undone, showing off the lovebite that Lestrade put there earlier. The vest is very fine jersey, his angel wing tattoo showing through as a shadow on his back and shoulder. 

His newest tattoo is cleaned up and covered in transparent collagen film, better than clingfilm, less likely to be disturbed. He wears rings on all the fingers of his right hand, but only Lestrade's diamond on his left. 

His feet are encased in Frankie's stiletto boots, the left one forced on over the bandage.

"You look foxy yourself"

Lestrade wears tight black jeans, showing off his arse to good effect. To go with the jeans, he has picked a plain, tight, white short-sleeved t-shirt, emphasising his arms and chest. His hair is spiked with gel, and he wears his diamond ear stud, the thong with glass chips he never takes off, and Billy's ring, blue, aqua, grey and mauve stones. On his feet he wears new, bright white converse. The cut on his face has scabbed over, but he has the beginnings of a black eye. 

They go downstairs together, arms around each other's waists. Billy laughs as he sees the room. Balloons everywhere, and a drum kit in the corner. 

"Who are the drums for?"

"Wait and see."

Food has been set out on the dining table, which has been pushed back against the kitchen counter. Bottles of wine and beer sit in a big tub of ice on the counter. 

"There's another tub on the terrace. And ashtrays, so people can smoke."

There are also people on the terrace. Dimmock and Frankie. And Sherlock, who is smoking, elbows on the rail, shoulders tense. 

Billy stands Lestrade's card with the ones already on the bookcase, then goes out to join the others on the terrace. 

Lestrade selects a playlist and gets some noise going. There will be live music later. 

**_^Hi, Billy. Everything okay?^_ **

Dimmock has got into the habit of using Frankie's speech to text app all the time. 

**_^Yeah. Thanks Theo.^_ **

Frankie looks at Billy's hands.

"You got a new tattoo. And is that an engagement ring?"

**_^Yes, and yes. ^_ **

Billy smiles at his ward, who is grinning delightedly. 

**_^You look lovely, Frankie. That colour really suits you. Matches your eyes.^_ **

Frankie is wearing tighter jeans than Billy, if that is possible. And a pale, ice blue silk shirt, loose on the body, tucked into his jeans, sleeves rolled up. His white-blond hair is artfully messy, and he wears cowboy boots, giving him a couple of extra inches of height, making him almost as tall as Billy. 

Dimmock has scruffed his fair hair up. It suits him. He wears loose-fit Levi's, and a vintage Ramones t-shirt, with black converse. A thong threaded with sea glass chips is wound around his wrist. 

Sherlock is in his usual black suit, with a white silk shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. Unusually, he has been wearing a tie, which hangs loose around his neck. 

The door bell buzzes. Dimmock has taken on doorman duties, and goes to greet the new arrivals. Sergeant Sally Donovan, and Dr Molly Hooper, both wearing short, skimpy dresses. Molly in dark blue silk, Donovan in red sequins. 

The two women look around.

"Gods. How can we compete with all these gay men? They're all prettier than us."

Molly's face twists in a little grimace.

"At least you don't have to compete with the floor. Wish they'd told me it was blue…"

Donovan laughs. Her mouth drops open as she sees Lestrade. 

"Bloody hell, sir. Are you sure about those jeans?"

Lestrade blushes.

"Billy likes them. And call me Greg, Sal."

"Okay, Greg. Where did you get the shiner?"

"I actually did walk into a door. Well, slid down a flight of wet steps into a door frame. Don't laugh. "

*****

The room begins to fill. Neighbours have been invited. 

The single mother of twin teen girls from the floor below, late thirties, pretty and blonde, wearing a simple little black dress. 

The teen girls themselves, intent on making sure their mother doesn't disgrace herself, one with short, dark blonde hair,wearing a pink play suit, the other a goth in black lace, long black hair with purple streaks. Both eyeing up Frankie, Billy, and to his obvious discomfort, Dimmock. 

An older straight couple from the ground floor, mid forties, he in loose jeans and a tweed jacket, she in a prom-style summer dress, yellow flowers on a white ground. 

The lesbian couple from around the corner, Sue in jeans and an emerald green silk blouse, Poll in a paler green shift dress and koi carp tattoos on both arms. 

There are Yarders. Dimmock's sergeant, in a suit; Anderson, the forensics officer, in jeans and t-shirt, making a beeline for Sergeant Donovan. Anderson's pet forensics photographer, Artie Dughall, follows behind, clutching a camera that looks as if it means business. The rest of Lestrade's team, sergeant and three constables, mainly jeans and t-shirts, but one female DC in cobalt blue lace. 

Mycroft Holmes, resplendent in charcoal grey three-piece, arrives with Logan, in chinos and sports jacket, on one arm, and Anthea, in peach silk, on the other. 

A bunch of postgrads and postdocs from Brunel, some of them carrying instruments. 

Liam Callaghan, wearing his usual skater shorts and Hawaiian shirt. Palm trees and pineapples on this one. 

The final guests to arrive are three teenagers from Frankie's music therapy group, one in a wheelchair, with a keyboard on her lap, the other two carrying guitars. 

Splinter groups form, mostly determined by age. The twins from downstairs attach themselves to the music therapy group. Anthea and the twins' mother join the lesbian couple. Molly Hooper's fiancé arrives late, and joins her and Sherlock in a corner of the room. 

Billy searches the room, finds Liam on the terrace, smoking. 

"So this is the important thing you had to do tonight?"

"Yes. Did you really not know about it?"

"No. He kept it so quiet I thought he'd forgotten it was my birthday."

"I'm surprised he asked me…"

"Why? You're my friend."

Liam smiles tightly. Looks away, sweeping his gaze around the room. 

"You're wearing a new ring…"

"Well, it's an old one, really. We were engaged at Christmas, but things went a bit wrong. We're going to give it another go. He really wants it."

"You've not mentioned any of that."

"I didn't think it mattered. You and me, we're not…"

"We're not anything. You should probably go back to the rest of your guests. I'll catch you for a dance later."

*****

**_^Everything all right, Frankie?^_ **

Billy has noticed the young man keeping an eye on the door. 

"Aye. Fine. I just thought someone else was coming…"

He is interrupted by the door bell buzzing.

Billy opens the door. A dark-haired man of about forty stands outside, his arm on the shoulder of a very pretty girl wearing finger braces. 

"Is this Frankie Knox's party?"

"Well, technically, it's my party. I'm Frankie's guardian."

"You're Dr Wiggins? I expected someone older…"

"Well, I'm older than I was yesterday. I'm sorry, you are…?"

"Matt O'Connor. I'm Siobahn's dad. I was worried about letting her come on her own, but she was so set on not letting Frankie down…"

"She'll be safe here. Half the guests are coppers…"

Billy laughs.

"Hello Siobahn"

Frankie speaks shyly to the girl, who looks to be sixteen or seventeen, with green eyes and red hair. She wears a full-skirted calf length summer dress, blue and mauve flowers, and carries what is obviously an instrument case. 

**_^Hi Frankie. Sorry I'm late. Dad's car broke down, and we had to walk a bit.^_ **

"That's all right. I'm glad you're here. Come and have a drink. Some of the others are here already. And Billy's band are here…"

Frankie takes Siobahn's hand and pulls her into the crowd. 

"Would you like to stay, Matt? There's plenty of room, plenty of food and drink, and you wouldn't be the only parent here. Although I think Sarah's twins have come to keep an eye on her, rather than the other way round…"

O'Connor smiles.

"No, that's okay. Don't want to embarrass her. I need to go and get the car sorted, anyway. It's the battery, I think. I'll come back for her at midnight, if that's okay?"

"That's fine. We'll look after her."

O'Connor leaves. Billy looks around for Frankie. Spots him sitting with the other teens, his arm tightly around Siobahn's waist, their heads together as they talk via Frankie's phone. Billy shivers. Wonders if Dimmock has noticed. 

*****

"Theo, are you okay?"

Sherlock speaks quietly in his ear. 

Dimmock isn't okay. Not at all okay. He has noticed Siobahn's arrival. Noticed Frankie's interactions with her, and is hurting. He has grown fond of the young man in the two months they have been together. Has allowed himself to begin to show his fondness in bed. 

"I'm being stupid. I knew he'd find someone his own age eventually. Just didn't expect it to be so soon. Or for it to be a girl…"

He looks at Sherlock, sees the tension in the man's shoulders and spine, tightness around the eyes. 

"Something not right in your world? You look the way I feel…"

"John got married this morning. He asked me to be his best man…"

"Insensitive. I hope you said no."

"Indeed. Mike Stamford did it. I didn't stay long. Molly left early too. Lestrade was invited, too, but he didn't go. It was an odd ceremony."

"We're a pair of sad gits. I think I'm going to get drunk."

"Come and dance. You don't want to look as if you're sulking. Or to let Frankie think he's upset you. You need to sparkle. Billy told me you like to dance…"

"I don't know, Sherlock. You and me…?"

"Just a dance?"

"Okay. Just a dance"

They move into the room, Dimmock smiling as brightly as he can. Sherlock is a very good dancer, and soon, natural endorphins start to flow and Dimmock feels a bit better. Lestrade joins them, dancing happily to everything, grabbing Dimmock for the next slow dance, so they can talk. 

"Theo. Billy thinks Frankie should stay here tonight. He can use the spare room. I think he's smitten, and it'd be best if you…"

"Yeah. I was going to ask if he could. I don't understand though…"

He chokes, and Lestrade pulls him in close, hugging tight. 

"It's not always easy to know what you are at his age. He's been through a lot, T. I think he thought he was gay, but it's more likely he's bi. He's a kid. He needs to have a chance to be a kid. I know you love him, mate. But you need to let him go."

"Yeah. I'll be okay, Greg."

Lestrade thumps Dimmock's shoulder and moves off. 

*****

"Evening all…"

There is general laughter from the police contingent, which of course is why Lestrade starts his very brief speech that way. 

"Thanks for coming. I'd just like to say happy birthday to Dr Bill here, and to let you know what's going to happen. We're going to have a short set from some of the guys and gals from Frankie's music class. They're good, and I'm going to show off a bit. Theo's going to give us his party piece as well. Then the Brunel guys are going to do a set. Later on we'll have karaoke. But before we kick off, one little announcement. I'm really delighted to tell you all that earlier today, I asked Bill to marry me, and he's agreed."

He pulls Billy in and kisses him soundly, to whoops and cheers. 

"The wedding's on September 23rd. Invitations will go out soon. Keep your eyes on the post."

*****

The music students set up quickly, the guitarists tuning. There is no bass player, so Lestrade stands in, standing at the back of the stage area. Frankie climbs up behind the drums, setting an earpiece into his left ear. It will pick up the frequencies from Lestrade's Gibson, allowing him to keep time. 

They have spent a lot of time practicing with the earpiece, which is an invention of Liam's. Billy realises that was what else Lestrade had been doing all week when he thought he'd been working. He is glad Liam and Greg get on together, glad that Liam has been able to make it to the party. 

Siobahn is last to take her place, taking a flute from her instrument case and fitting the pieces together, then counting the group in, to play Ruby Tuesday, moving her head so Frankie can catch the count. 

Sherlock pulls Dimmock in for the slow dance, holding him close. 

"Your party piece?"

"Yeah. I've got to play mouth organ while Greg sings. I'll be all right. You're not to laugh."

"I promise not to"

The group play a Jethro Tull number that everyone knows, and move on to their final piece, the Eurovision winner 'Only Teardrops', the keyboard player singing beautifully, and everyone dancing to the upbeat tune. 

Dimmock makes his way to the stage area, pulling his mouth organ from his back pocket, and smiling brightly at Frankie to make him think everything is fine, _he's not upset, oh no._

Lestrade counts in and the group play the Pearl Jam version of an old Beatles song, Lestrade taking the vocal. Dimmock is gratified by the amount of applause and steps away, pleased not to have made a fool of himself. 

The rest of the band take their instruments and follow, apart from Lestrade and Frankie, who look intently at each other. Frankie speaks into the mic. 

"Hi everyone. I'd like to thank the guys from the music group. We're moving on to the loud part of the night now, so get your earplugs in if you need them. Greg and me are going to do one more while the Brunel guys have a wee or whatever. If we get out of step, it'll be my fault, what with being deaf and all. Hope you like this."

He adjusts his earpiece and nods to Lestrade, who launches into the opening riff of 'Come on Over'. Frankie joins in with the drums and vocal, while Lestrade plays bass solo and rhythm. At the end of the song they are both sweating, and the roof of the loft almost lifts with the cheering. 

Billy leans into the Brunel bass player and smiles. 

"That was a surprise. Think you can follow him?"

"I'll have you to cover my inadequacy. The kid was good too. Is he really deaf?"

"Yeah. Total in the right ear. He's got about 10% low frequencies in the left. We're hoping it will improve. Liam's working on something for him."

Liam's speciality is cyber-augmentation of neural signals. Billy has spent a lot of time with him recently. They are trying to get joint funding for a big research project. 

The Brunel band play numbers from their usual set list, with the addition of 'Behind Blue Eyes', which Sherlock dances to with Dimmock, and 'Hallo Spaceboy'- a hard rock version that everyone dances to. Billy plays with them, of course, and gets so caught up in the music that he doesn't notice the glowering looks Liam directs at Lestrade whenever the DCI's back is turned. Dimmock and Sherlock notice, but each is too wrapped up in his own misery to do anything about it. 

Frankie spends the rest of the evening wrapped around Siobahn. At around eleven thirty, the teenagers' parents start arriving to take them home, and by midnight, they are all gone. Lestrade plugs in the karaoke machine, and the party carries on until the early hours. 

Artie Dughall takes lots of photographs. Not all of them compromising.

Liam dances one dance with Billy, one dance with Lestrade, then spends the rest of the evening drinking and pointedly talking forensics with Anderson. Billy is surprised, and a bit ashamed, to find he is jealous. Liam doesn't answer Billy's texts the next day. 

 

Later…

Billy realises that San Pellegrino Limonata bottles will make the perfect chandelier, if the labels are varnished so they don't peel off. He sets aside a special box for them to be collected in, and manages to save thirty. Next morning, Lestrade, being helpful, takes them to the bottle bank for recycling. 

The Yves Klein blue rubber floor suffers badly from stiletto heel marks. When Billy gets an estimate for resurfacing, it is £15 000. Lestrade suggests buying a rug. Billy is not amused. Lestrade helpfully points out that many of the stiletto heel marks are from Billy's own boots and earns himself two nights on the sofa. 

Billy confronts Liam in his lab. He doesn't understand why his friend is angry with him. Liam reminds Billy about their plan to undertake research overseas. Tells him he'd thought they were becoming more than just friends. Points out that Lestrade's announcement of his forthcoming marriage to Billy had been a shock. Gives Billy something to think about. 

 

****************************************************************************************************

 

The music therapy group played:

Rolling Stones: Ruby Tuesday: <http://youtu.be/wUIh5zhe-Fo>

Jethro Tull: Living In The Past: <http://youtu.be/-SQy2KgVM9c>

Emmelie De Forest: Only Teardrops:<http://youtu.be/k59E7T0H-Us>

 

Dimmock's party piece:

Pearl Jam: You've Got To Hide Your Love Away: [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVqGpE10zaA&sns=em](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVqGpE10zaA&sns=em)

Lestrade & Frankie played:

Royal Blood: Come on over: <http://youtu.be/nG1gRK5b_v0>

Additions to the Brunel band set list:

The Who: Behind blue eyes: [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlrmgWvwWnA&sns=em](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlrmgWvwWnA&sns=em)

David Bowie & Nine Inch Nails: Hallo Spaceboy: [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1X6KF1IkkIc&sns=em](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1X6KF1IkkIc&sns=em)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come on over" doesn't fit the timeline of this story, but it is a great tune for solo bass and drums. Lestrade and Frankie would have loved playing it, so I have taken a temporal liberty. 
> 
> The events in this story take place during the season 3 timeframe, but, as I've said before, the story is not BBC compliant.


	16. Welcome to the tattoo club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie gets a tattoo.

**_^It'll be fine, Frankie. Liam's really good. The kit is experimental, but it could make such a difference to your life. Cybernetics is really the way forward for sensory aids.^_ **

"I'm scared it won't work. I want to be able to hear Theo. And Siobahn. And music. I want to hear music properly."

**_^ Yeah. I can't imagine what it's like. I don't think I could bear it if I couldn't hear Greg. And my guitar. I think it would send me mad.^_ **

Frankie and Billy are on the way to see Liam Callaghan, a friend and colleague of Billy's from Brunel. Liam's team have developed a new type of hearing aid. One with a direct electrical connection to the vestibulocochlear nerve, bypassing the ear and transforming sound waves into analogue electrical signals. 

The hope is that hearing can be restored to Frankie's right ear, the one with no hearing at all. Frankie has already begun to regain some natural hearing in his left ear. The low frequencies, mainly. He is able to hear Lestrade's bass, for example, with a hearing aid, but can't hear the top notes of Billy's guitar or any voices. 

He has been able to feel rather than hear Dimmock's growls of pleasure in bed, but wants to hear the soft words he was sure accompanied the gentle huffs of breath against his skin. 

He wants to hear Siobahn as well. His speech to text app can only do so much, and he is worried about being able to keep up when he goes to college in a few weeks time. 

Liam has said Frankie would be a good candidate, and had carried out a battery of tests during late July and early August. Billy, as Frankie's guardian, has given permission, and the connection will be implanted today.

*****

**_^Hello Frankie. All set? I'll just remind you of what will happen. We'll be inserting a wire with a connector to the main auditory nerve. It will mean drilling a tiny hole in the bottom of your skull so we can feed the wire through. It will connect to the nerve on the inside of your skull, just where it joins your brain. The other end will be connected to a receiver behind your ear. It will look like a tattoo, and you can cover it with your hair if you want.^_ **

"Will it hurt a lot?"

The surgeon smiles reassuringly.

**_^You'll have a local anaesthetic for the drilling and wire insertion. The brain doesn't have pain nerves, so there shouldn't be much sensation at all. Maybe a feeling of pressure in your neck. Tattooing the receiver will be the most painful part, but you'll still have residual effects of the anaesthetic, so it should be discomfort, rather than pain.^_ **

"I've seen a drawing of the tattoo. I don't really understand how it works."

Liam explains

**_^ It won't be ink, Frankie. It will be a conducting alloy, so your tattoo will be metallic silver. It will look like a circuit diagram. Billy designed it, so it will look good. It detects changes in pressure made by sound waves and converts them to electrical signals.^_ **

The otologist continues

**_^We can't guarantee that it will make things sound completely natural, but we will calibrate it with your help to get as good a sound as possible. You'll have to stay in the clinic for a few days, and we'll use that time to assess the hearing in your left ear. We may be able to give you a better hearing aid now that you have some hearing back.^_ **

"Will it be okay if there's a lot of noise? I want to be able to go to gigs…"

**_^Yes. But you might need to wear ear defenders that cover the tattoo if it's very noisy. You don't want to get overloaded. You should still wear an earplug in your left ear if you go to a gig. Don't want to risk what hearing you have there. Dr Wiggins tells me you're learning to play drums? Definitely protect that left ear. ^_ **

*****

Frankie had been desperate to play an instrument. He hoped that he, Billy and Lestrade would be able to play together. He could feel the vibration of his drums through his body, and had read about deaf percussionists, becoming fascinated by the life story of Evelyn Glennie. 

He had started lessons in the middle of July, and was doing very well. Lestrade had found a music therapy group for disabled teenagers, and Frankie went there most days. Sometimes Lestrade joined in. The group didn't have a bass player, and Lestrade was very good, and had infinite patience with the young musicians. 

They had worked up a cover version of a Royal Blood song, and he and Lestrade had played it at Billy's party. Sherlock had been keen to see if Billy could sense vibrations from his violin, and had worked with Frankie to arrange a tune for violin and conga drums, which they had recorded as a birthday gift to Billy. 

In the last week before Billy's party, a new student had joined the group. She was a pretty Irish girl who played the flute. Frankie had been smitten, and worried about how to tell Dimmock that he had fallen for a girl. 

In the end, he hadn't told him, but had invited Siobahn to Billy's party. It had become obvious to Dimmock what had happened, and he had been upset. He had gone home with Sherlock that night, and Frankie had stayed in Billy's spare room, where he had cried all night because he was lonely. 

The next day Dimmock had stayed away, and Frankie had moped around Billy's loft. Lestrade had become so annoyed that he had called Dimmock to come and collect the teenager. 

It is four days after the party. 

"I can't cope with this chopping and changing. Why can't he make up his mind?"

Dimmock is finding the situation difficult. 

The night of the party, he had been very upset to be confronted with Siobahn with no prior warning. He had taken Sherlock back to his house and they had spent the night cuddled up together. Sherlock had not been interested in sex, he was too upset over Watson's marriage. Dimmock had been too drunk. 

The following night he had been surprised and pleased to see that Frankie was missing him, and they had spent the night cuddled in each other's arms. Dimmock had woken in the early hours, hearing the shower running, and had guessed that Frankie was using his vibrator. He had pretended to be asleep.

"I don't think he knows what he wants, Theo. He says he hasn't had sex with Siobahn, but he wants to. They spend a lot of time snogging…"

"He's using me now, I think, Bill. I don't like the idea that he can just use me for sex when his girlfriend isn't around."

"I think he's confused. He obviously wants Siobahn, and he's behaving like a normal teenager with her. I think that's why he doesn't want to sleep with you on days when he's seen her. The trouble is, he's also a recently rescued abuse victim, who's used to sex with a man, who needs sex, and you've given him space to have it with no danger to him…. "

"I love him, Bill. Oh, not in the way that I'd die if he left me, but I don't want to hurt him by turning him away. What can I do? I can't move on, find someone else if I'm worried he'll turn up while I'm in the middle of something."

"Maybe you shouldn't always be available. Why don't you ask Sherlock if you can stay at Baker Street for a few nights? You and him get on all right, and he's got a spare room now that John's not living there any more…"

"No! I'd be terrified that Watson might turn up. They still work together on cases…"

Dimmock is really upset. Billy doesn't know what to suggest. 

"Bill. When I took him in you said it would be for as long as we both wanted to be boyfriends. I don't think he really does now. He wants Siobahn. If the procedure works, I'm going to tell him it's over. It'll be better if I finish it. He can get angry with me, and that'll help him to get over me. I don't think it will take long. He'll have his hearing back, he'll be able to interact with other youngsters easily. He's made a start with the music group, and Siobahn. He'll make friends at college. It's time."

"Yeah. I expect you're right. You both need to get back to the real world, don't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it would be possible to have a tattooed-on hearing aid. I like to think it would be an option that people could choose if they wish some day.


	17. Testing, testing…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimmock makes a decision.

"That's great, Mr Holmes. Now, if you could play a short continuous piece…"

Sherlock is at the clinic, engaged in one of a series of calibration exercises that have been going on all day. A variety of people have been asked to attend, and if they play instruments, to bring them. Their voices, scales and chords, and instrumental pieces have been recorded, to be played back later. Live voices and instruments will also be used in the exercises.

There has been a stream of visitors, including Dimmock and, disconcertingly for him, Siobahn. Lestrade and Billy have been around all day. Sherlock is working with a technician in the studio. 

"Could you be more specific? What type of piece? How short? My own composition or something well-known? Modern or classical?"

"Perhaps something classical, well-known? Less than 5 minutes?"

The technician is finding Sherlock less easy to work with than some of the other visitors. Dimmock has played part of 'Rhapsody in Blue'. Lestrade chose 'Come on over' as his piece, it being one that Frankie knows well. Billy had decided to play the 'Wild Theme' from 'Local Hero'. 

Siobahn played the dance of the mushrooms from Fantasia, then she and Sherlock played it again together, the violin playing the counterpoint to the flute. Sherlock had been very interested in Siobahn's finger braces. She wears them to strengthen her joints, which are floppy and liable to dislocate. She would not be able to play her flute without them. 

Now Sherlock has to decide what to choose as his solo piece. Eventually, he settles on the Dance of the Capulets from Romeo and Juliet, playing it beautifully in his own solo arrangement. 

*****

"Can you tell which instrument this is, Frankie?

"Violin"

"And this one?"

"Harmonica"

"And this?"

"Hah. Bass. Bass guitar. Is that Greg playing? Is it 'Come On Over'? That's mad. It's so fast. I can hear everything…"

Frankie starts to cry.

"Not quite everything, Frankie. It's about ninety percent of the frequencies an average seventeen year old would hear. You still don't have stereo hearing in most frequencies, because your left ear hasn't fully recovered, but that is improving. You'll find low frequencies are easiest to distinguish, the bass for example. Low voices, too, like Dr Wiggins's singing voice, and Mr Holmes and Mr Lestrade's speaking voices. Timbre is important. Mr Lestrade has a particular rumble in his chest when he speaks sometimes. That will be easier to detect than for example, Mr Dimmock's voice, which is lighter. However, I am pleased with the progress we have made. I hope you are not too unhappy with the tattoo?"

Billy has been involved in designing the tattoo. It looks like a circuit diagram etched into the skin behind Frankie's ear. 

"The tattoo is brilliant. It looks really cool. Thank you so much. When can I go home?"

"We need to keep you here another couple of days. Introduce a greater range of sounds, and more composite sounds. You'd probably find it all a bit overwhelming if we sent you straight out now."

*****

"How are you, Frankie?"

"Oh, I can hear you, Theo."

Frankie bursts into tears, and Dimmock wraps his arms around him, hugging him close and kissing his hair. 

"I'm glad it worked. I expect Billy's already welcomed you to the tattoo club."

He laughs quietly. 

"Oh, and I can hear you laugh as well as feel it."

Frankie smiles shyly

"I want to hear you growl…"

Dimmock shudders. That had gone straight to his balls. _How is he supposed to give up this beautiful boy?_

"Yeah. I think you'll need to decide whether you're living with me or not. It's hard for me to not know from one day to the next…"

"I like sleeping with you, Theo. I miss you when I stay at Billy's. But when I'm with my friends, I feel as if what I do with you is dirty. I don't want them to know about us…"

"That makes it easier for you, then. You'll be at college every day in a couple of weeks. You'll be with your friends, and new friends, a lot more. You'll work out what makes you feel good. If you're worrying about what we do, we should stop doing it. I don't want you feeling ashamed. "

"But I would miss having sex."

Frankie speaks quietly.

"I _need_ to have sex. What will I do?"

"You'll find ways of coping, like the rest of us. Use your hands, and your imagination. One day you'll find someone young that you want to make love with, and who wants to make love with you. Maybe a girl, maybe a boy…"

"But I want to hear you growl…"

"I'm not the only person who growls, Frankie. And I haven't been doing much of that lately, anyhow. You were angry at me the other night, I know. You hurt me, you were so fierce. I think that was because deep down, you felt it was wrong."

Dimmock takes a deep breath.

"I need someone who wants all of me, not just my body, sometimes. Someone older, someone who'll like doing old fogey things with me. It's time for us both to make a fresh start, Frankie."

"Are you breaking up with me, Theo?"

"I have to, love. I'm lonely. I can't share your life."

*****

"That was nicely done, T."

Lestrade had been on his way to see Frankie, had heard the voices and waited outside the room. The door had been open, he hadn't really meant to listen, but…

"Oh, Greg. Can we go for a cigarette? Please? He needs a little bit of space to process that. So do I."

The two detectives walk slowly to the back entrance of the clinic, where there is a small garden, and sit on a bench. Lestrade lights two cigarettes and passes one to Dimmock, then texts Billy to ask him to look in on Frankie. 

"Hardly ever see you smoking, T…"

Dimmock coughs, tears starting in his eyes. 

"I don't, much. But I can't think of anything else that would help…"

"Well, if it's any comfort, if we're ever both at a loose end at the same time, I wouldn't mind hearing you growl…"

"Fuck off, Lestrade"

Dimmock laughs, 

"Mind you, if you were single…"

Lestrade flushes, standing up and walking a little way along the path so that Dimmock can't see the blush. Or the erection which has sprung to attention in his pants. 

Dimmock follows slowly. 

"Did you hear it all?"

"From when he was talking about feeling dirty. You handled it really well. Must have hurt your feelings…"

"Yeah. But I've kind of been expecting it. Once he started being interested in someone his own age, he was bound to notice that what we had wasn't… normal."

Lestrade nods.

"I had my doubts from the beginning, but Billy put up a good argument. He'll stay with us, in the spare room until he's eighteen, at least. Billy might let him live on the boat when he wants to strike out on his own."

Lestrade stamps his cigarette out. 

"You've done the right thing Theo. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. But you'll make it clear to him he's not just to turn up at my house? I'll see him in your company, or Billy's. Not on our own. That would send him mixed messages, and that wouldn't be fair. I wish I hadn't…"

"Hey. Look forward, not back. Go dancing, or something."

"Yeah. Thanks, Greg. I wish I didn't love him."

 

****************************************************************************************************

Siobahn played: Mushroom dance from Fantasia: <http://youtu.be/seR8z1L6UcY>

Sherlock played:Dance of the Capulets: <http://youtu.be/bI9akyHz_wc>

Dimmock played: Larry Adler: Rhapsody in Blue: <http://youtu.be/4ZI8uB7KfSU>

Billy played: Mark Knopfler: Going Home: <http://youtu.be/_EyoXb4DtHA>


	18. Didn't we have a date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy needs more than Greg can give.

"Come on Frankie. Car's here"

It is early in the morning, but Billy is keen to get going. Lestrade is already outside, loading kit bags and waterproof boots into the boot of the big black car. Frankie is still faffing around in the way of teenagers everywhere. 

"Billy, I can't find my headphones…"

Frankie needs to wear specialist headphones to listen to music. His right ear will not pick up a useful signal from normal earbuds. His 'phones have been tailored to the shape of his skull, interacting with his audio tech, and also act as ear defenders when necessary. He won't be able to cope with a festival without them. 

"Have you looked under your pillow? I found them there the other day". 

Frankie pulls the pillows off the bed. No headphones. He looks under tnhe bed. There they are. He picks them up and runs down to the front door. 

"Ready". 

"Okay. Let's go."

Billy makes a final check to be sure he has the tickets, and the VIP wristbands, then follows Frankie out to the car. They are on their way to the festival. 

The journey is uneventful. It is certainly the most comfortable way that Lestrade has ever travelled to a festival. He has cadged lifts with friends in the past, taken trains, ridden his motorcycle. One memorable year, he went in a patrol car, blues and twos getting him past the traffic jams. He has never travelled to a festival in a limousine before. It feels wrong, somehow. 

Their Winnebago shines in the sunlight. It is all a bit too clean for Lestrade's taste. He is a veteran festival-goer, and has always loved the whole experience. The cold, draughty and often sodden tents; the smell of mould on damp clothes; the burnt cooking smells, the beer, the overflowing portaloos; the mud. The noise of thousands of people, and dozens of bands, mingling and clashing. 

The VIP area is just a little removed from reality. They have their own indoor toilet and shower. There is a cooker, and a fridge. Clean, dry clothes. The plus side is the access to the roped-off area close to the main stage. That will be good for Frankie, he thinks. The youngster finds it hard to deal with crowds. 

Lestrade snaps his wristband on and goes to explore. 

*****

***To: BW: Having fun? LC***

***To: LC: It's all right. Not what I expected .BW***

***To: BW: Too muddy? Tent too small? LC***

***To: LC: Not muddy at all. We've got a Winnebago. BW***

***To: BW: My heart bleeds…LC***

***To: LC: Frankie's finding it a bit difficult. The crowds. And the noise. BW***

***To: BW: Make sure he wears his cans. LC***

***To: LC: He is. Greg keeps buggering off. He'd rather be in a tent. BW***

***To: BW: Boyfriend trouble. I knew it. Wish I was there :) LC***

***To: LC: We're arguing a lot. He's not adjusting well to having Frankie around all the time. BW***

***To: BW: Come to Calgary. LC***

***To: LC: Thinking about it. BW***

*****

Lestrade is bored. Bored at a rock festival, which takes some doing. He loves festivals, goes to one most years, even at the ripe old age of fifty.

He likes nothing better than getting down and dirty, losing himself in the experience for a weekend, or longer. He can usually find someone to enjoy a beer with, dance with, maybe snog with, not bothering to exchange phone numbers. He eats from the stalls: world food, vegan food, greasy burgers. Goes home tired, stinky and happy. 

This time it is different. He is clean, for a start, and while cleanliness has its place, a rock festival is not that place. He is being expected to cook, and while he loves cooking, the whole point of festival food is that someone else cooks it. He's wary of trying to find someone to dance or snog with, now he knows he's gay. In the past, he's picked up women easily. He doesn't really know how to pick up men. He doesn't really know how to tell when a man is interested. He has no idea how to let a stranger know _he_ is interested. He is afraid of being punched, or worse, if he gets it wrong. 

He isn't getting drunk. He isn't getting shagged; Billy hasn't been keen with Frankie around. He isn't getting lost in a muddy crowd of people in front of a stage. He has a teenager in tow. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. 

"Billy. I need to let off some steam. I want to go and find some punk…."

"Frankie doesn't like punk…"

"To be honest, Bill, it doesn't matter if Frankie likes punk or not. I'm not offering to take Frankie. I'm going on my own. I'll see you both later."

He heads off into the crowd before Billy can stop him. It is day three, and he needs to shake out his cobwebs. 

He walks a little faster than necessary, to put some distance between himself and Billy. 

They had argued the night before. Lestrade had wanted to see Blink 182. Billy hadn't. In the end he went to see the band on his own, but he hadn't been able to let go and enjoy it. He knows that if it were just Billy and himself at the festival he could be ridiculous, pogoing and being handsy with his lover, make Billy laugh and let his hair down, but with Frankie there too, it is impossible. 

He feels old. 

He wanders through the food village, buys a shish kebab, still on its stick, and is halfway through it when he spots a familiar face. 

"Artie? Artie Dughall?"

"Mr Lestrade. What brings you here?"

"Billy got weekend passes for his birthday. I've escaped the VIP area for a bit of relief."

Lestrade eyes Dughall's equipment. SLR camera, Pentax, by the look of it. Specialist lenses hung on cords around his neck. Computer bag slung over his shoulder. Press pass. 

"You moonlighting, then?"

Artie is a forensics photographer. Lestrade usually sees him trailing after Anderson at crime scenes. He wonders how much the Met pays him. 

"Yeah. Worse ways to make a living. Want a picture? For a fiver I can photoshop you next to Kate Moss. Or Jude Law…"

"Nah. Don't want to upset Billy. He's annoyed that I haven't brought Frankie with me anyway. Unless you can photoshop me next to a naked Johnny Depp…"

"Should have known he'd be your type."

Dughall laughs. Takes a photo anyway. 

"I'll see what I can do, Mr Lestrade. It'll be a gift."

Lestrade laughs and turns away, heading towards the music. He is starting to feel better. And even better as it begins to rain. 

*****

***To:GL: Where are you? BW***

***To: BW: Met up with Sherlock and Theo. Didn't know they were going to be here, they've been slumming it with the masses. Going for a beer. See you later. GL***

Billy is unhappy. He had really looked forward to the festival, but hasn't actually enjoyed it very much. Lestrade has been pretty miserable, and having Frankie around has made it worse. 

Lestrade had cuddled up to Billy on the first night of the festival, wanted to make love, but Billy had been worried that Frankie would hear and had pushed him away. Lestrade had been hurt, and hasn't tried again. 

They have been tense with each other ever since. Lestrade wants to lose himself in the music and crowds. Billy had really wanted that too. He wanted to grab Lestrade, dance and laugh, but again, Frankie had got in the way. His hearing is too sensitive for him to cope in the main field for long, so he has mainly stayed in the VIP area. Billy has stayed with him, resenting Lestrade every time he disappears to roam the fields. 

The last straw had been seeing Sherlock and Dimmock laughing and waving on the big screen, and the brief flash of Lestrade with Johnny Depp. He knows the image is photoshopped, recognises the style of Artie Dughall, but still can't help being annoyed. He scrolls back through his texts, looking for one in particular. 

***To:BW: Have you decided? I need to let them know. LC***

Billy climbs into the Winnebago. Frankie is just coming out of the shower. 

"Frankie. How would you like a trip to Canada?"

"Canada?"

"Yeah. I've been given the chance to co-head an important project at the University of Calgary. There's a college you could go to. And the chance of a scholarship. They have a really good archaeology programme as well. Or you could choose something else. The curriculum is different there. You can choose what you like to study."

"Will Greg be coming?"

"If he can get a transfer, he might. I haven't asked him yet. Wanted to sound you out first."

"I'd miss Siobahn. Do you think Canadian girls will like me?"

"Of course they will. Boys as well, probably. The college is really good…"

"You said co-head a project? Who with? "

"Liam"

"Dr Callaghan? So he'd be able to sort out my ears if anything happens?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"How long will we be there?"

"The funding is for six months to start with. We can rethink it after that".

Frankie considers what it could mean for him. He is self-centred, as most teenagers are. It sounds like a great adventure.

"They play ice hockey in Canada, don't they? I fancy having a go at that. Yeah. Let's do it."

Billy smiles. 

"All right. I'll let Liam know."

***To: LC: Answer's yes. Frankie will be coming with me. He's looking forward to playing ice hockey :) BW***

***To: BW: Great. It wouldn't work without you. I'll get contracts to you for signing. And email Frankie the school prospectus. What about your other half? Can he transfer to the Mounties? :) LC***

***To: LC: Need to talk to him. I'll let you know. BW***

*****

"It will be a good move for Frankie. A completely new start, somewhere he won't bump into anyone he knows… And it's a really great opportunity for me. This is a prestigious project, Greg. I'd be a fool to turn it down."

"Yeah. But six months in Canada…"

"Minimum six months. Could be longer, if it goes well."

"Fuck, Billy. How much longer? When will you need to leave?"

"Could be a year, maybe more. We've got a flight booked on September 18th. Frankie's school semester starts on the 21st."

"Didn't we have a date on the 23rd?"

Lestrade is coldly angry. Billy has made the decision to go to Canada without even telling him anything about it. Fear settles in his belly alongside the anger. He feels sick. 

"We can postpone. Get married in Calgary."

"You're assuming I can just up sticks and move? What about my job?"

"There's police in Canada, Greg. It's a commonwealth country. You could transfer…"

"I wouldn't keep my rank. And I don't know if I _could_ even transfer at my age. And I love working at the Met…"

"This is a really important international collaboration, Greg."

"You've been planning this for a long time, haven't you? I thought you were working on that hearing aid thing with Callaghan…"

"This is his next project. His and mine. We've got joint funding."

Lestrade holds his temper down. And his fear. 

"I don't know when I'll be able to get away. Might not be until Christmas. I can't get more than a weekend off before then…"

"No point coming if you can't stay for more than a couple of days. Come for Christmas and New Year."

"You said Frankie's school term starts on the 21st…Billy, you can't just send a kid to a school. You have to plan it well in advance…"

"Liam started putting feelers out in July…"

" Before you said you'd marry me? You were planning this then?"

"Contingency plans. But I hadn't decided. I didn't decide till today, really."

"What tipped it?"

"Dunno, really. We're on edge, both of us. Arguing. I think I'm holding my breath waiting for one of us to get hurt again. I can't cope with any more of it. Getting hooked on the needle again. I never wanted that to happen. You getting arrested. Me getting shot. The whole Knox business…"

"That's over, Billy. It's not been long enough for us to get used to normal life again…"

"I know. I'm just starting to. I've made friends with someone who's not a copper or a Holmes. Liam makes me laugh. Reminds me I'm young. Flirts with me a bit. Nobody's ever done that."

"Flirts with you? Christ, Billy. Is that what you want? Flirting?"

"No. Yes. I'm twenty seven, Greg. I want to do things that twenty-seven year olds do…"

Lestrade feels empty. It is as if he doesn't know Billy any more. He has never been more conscious of the difference in their ages. _What do I really have to offer him?_

"I love you, Greg, but I need to get away for a while."

"Go then."

Lestrade turns and walks away, rain hiding the tear that trickles down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Greg do without Billy?
> 
> Could there be a 'happily ever after' for him?
> 
> Not in this story…
> 
>  
> 
> To find out why Sherlock and a Dimmock were at the festival, read my short fic [Sex, Mud, and Rock and Roll](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2090322)


End file.
